Memoria
by Flipping Seltzer
Summary: Arthur, Merlin, Gaius, and Uther are all experiencing terrible visions of a dying girl, pleading for help. Time travel, dead people, and revelations ensue! "It's never over!" "War comes to Albion—this is only the beginning." Now Complete!
1. Prologue

AN: I hope you enjoy this. I can't seem to get the idea out of my head so hopefully I'll be updating regularly.

I disclaim everything except the few characters I invent.

Prologue

The twisting corridors of Camelot's citadel were confusing to visitors and residents alike, but the figure that paced the halls was well versed in their mazes. Arthur had been sure to walk at every hallway at least once, checking exits and entrances into various halls and rooms. It was important for a knight to be aware of his surroundings. The prince sighed as he thought of Leon's voice, drilling awareness into him, a lazy, selfish child.

As he walked silently along the passageway he wondered how far he had really come since that day. How different was he from that sullen thirteen year old, too proud and ignorant to consider the words of those below his own status? Rubbing his face he turned, finally ready to go to sleep. Merlin had blown out his candles hours ago, but he had been restless and decided a walk might do him good. He was tired and sore from a long training session and his father's recent battle with madness hadn't helped his mood or weight of responsibility. Morgana's return had been the only spot of luck the whole year, hopefully the fall winds would blow in better fortune.

He was passing Morgana's chamber as if by coincidence and he dragged his fingers across wood of the door, as if to reassure himself it was there. The warmth under his fingertips was heartening. Morgana had Guinevere light a fire—she was there, sleeping. Safe.

"Well what did you expect to happen? That I'd come running into your arms?" An argument, a loud argument, reached his ears. Morgana had this area to herself, so he could only imagine some servants had tried to find a secluded spot to yell. He frowned. This area may have been deserted this summer, but he wouldn't have his, for all intents and purposes, sister, disturbed by a lover's quarrel. He rounded the corner silently, ready to give the unsuspecting help a good fright and tongue lashing for their actions, and then pulled up short. It was no serving boy who was being berated but a knight. He didn't recognize the figure from the back, seeing only light brown hair and broad shoulders, but the sword at his side, well made clothes, and ready stance were tells for an experienced courtier and fighter like the prince.

"Iana," The man started, reaching out an arm to the girl, who batted it away. Arthur frowned, hoping the knight wouldn't press the issue causing him to intercede. It was one thing for a nobleman to have a tryst with a serving girl, another for the crown prince to catch them in the act. And the girl had to be a servant, right? They had no visiting nobles in residence, not so soon after his father's…illness. But the girl was dressed elegantly, in a dark blue frock, a lace triangle at her bust and hem. Her hair was twisted up about her head, in some silly and complicated fashion that he'd seen Morgana sporting. She always fished for compliments when she did so because it took longer to arrange than a more simple style.

To Arthur's further confusion the man made no rough advances, simply grabbing for a hand again, but this time he was granted permission. He brought the hand to his lips, an unusually tender move for a soldier looking for a quick romance in the dark. The prince had some of those himself and knew that you didn't treat a passing serving girl like you treated a lady—they didn't expect it and it wasn't worth the time.

The girls face snapped up, her eyes meeting his gaze in surprise. He gasped in horror, stumbling back, feet catching on each other, causing the usually coordinated man to fall on his rump. Her eyes had been burning with golden fire. Golden fire of magic. The whole time he kept his eyes on her, sure that at any moment she would curse him or the man she had apparently enthralled. She never moved but suddenly she was in front of him, eyes no longer gold but bright blue, irises large in her heart-shaped pale face. She didn't speak but just stared at him, sadness and pain in her gaze. A voice sounded in Arthur's head. '_Help me'._ A dark light seemed to flash out of the girl and in the blink of an eye she was no longer pristine and calm, but tormented, face twisting with terror and agony. "Help me," she said quietly. Her dress was torn and dark, white lace the muddy brick color of dried blood. One sleeve was missing and the absent material revealed a druid symbol painted on her broken shoulder, the ink smeared by fingers and soot and blood. Her whole body seemed mangled and crushed. But most terrifying was her face. One whole side seemed to have been dragged across something, leaving three deep gashes along the left side, while her hair, now tangled around her face, was matted with blood and small pieces of stone. Her mouth opened and she yelled as if he was miles away instead of feet. "Help me!"

In his bed, Arthur Pendragon shot up, shaking and sweaty from his nightmare. "Help me." The whisper startled him and he jumped out of bed, whirling for an intruder before he realized it was just the remnants of the dream echoing in his mind. He slumped down onto the bed, exhausted. It had felt so real—her face, her scream. He lay back down, trying to force the image from his brain. _Help me._


	2. Chapter 1

AN: So this is set in season 3 (obviously) but is after the attack by Morgouse, probably somewhere around episode 3. This'll be an Arthur/Gwen with little Merlin/Morgana sprinkles (but no real romance) because I think it's an interesting dynamic. But I am an intense bromancer so there will be plenty of opportunities to put on those slash goggles if you want.

Also, it's been rightfully pointed out that Arthur doesn't really seem the type to be sleeping with servant. I agree… now, but the guy we saw in the first episode was a radically different character than the one that we have even later in season 1. He obviously was a jerk and not even Gwen, who normally finds something good to say, seems pretty fed up with his behavior. Peer pressure and fame probably got to his head at least once before he met Merlin (and he is around 20 when the show starts). I'm not saying he was mean to them or did anything untoward, but… it's just my opinion though and I may be the only one who feels that way. It won't be a big issue in the story overall.

Sorry for the obnoxious length of that. :D

The song is that Iana is singing is from Tangled and belongs to Alan Menken (who is a genius) and I am only borrowing it because I have no rhyming ability and couldn't create anything appropriate for my purpose.

I disclaim.

Chapter 1

At breakfast the next morning Arthur was in a foul mood. The dream and its lingering effects had robbed him of sleep and Merlin's less than graceful appearance this morning had caused a headache and annoyance. By the time the manservant had actually managed to get him dressed, Arthur had been late for a standing appointment eating with his father and Morgana. Since her disappearance, Uther had been pressing for more time together and the prince couldn't deny his father a morning meal without cause. For a second, he wished Morgana was still missing—then maybe he could have some peace, but immediately shook the thought from his mind. That was cruel and below him now.

Life wasn't always about him.

But it would be in minute of Merlin didn't stop napping against the wall and fill his glass. Subtly, he tossed a piece of cheese at the younger boy, grinning as it smacked him in the stomach and startled him, causing him to almost lose his grip on the water jug he was cradling. His father's servant gave the gangly boy oaf a glare as Merlin stumbled forward and filled Arthur's goblet. The noble snickered as his servant blushed crimson, drawing his father attention. The king glared at the boys until they were suitably chastised. And silent.

Uther Pendragon was in similar foul spirits as his son. He'd had the oddest feeling last night that something had been calling him, or reminding him of… something he couldn't quite remember. The idea scared him, although he'd be loathe to admit it anyone. The recent attack on his mind by the witch Morgouse still plagued him and had been a sad reminder of his own mortality and weakness. He glanced at Arthur—he looked so like Igraine, with her fine soft features. He feared his son had her soft heart as well, not so admirable a quality. The boy became attached to things, like his servant or peasants. As king Arthur would need to make hard decisions and he couldn't take his own feelings into account.

Finally the agonizing meal was over and both Pendragon men retired to separate rooms after a farewll from Morgana, who was going riding with a small company of men he'd assigned to her. Uther dismissed his servant with a brush of his hand, watching as Arthur and his help meandered out of the room, speaking quietly to each other. He should be worried, he knew, but the king was positive his son would eventually tire of his 'friend' as quickly as he tired of any new toy Uther had ever given to him.

The council chamber was empty, the palace being host to only a few permanent noble residents at the moment. The king preferred to work here, in this large room, than in his study, which was connected, but small and cold in the winter. Settling himself at the head of the long table he got to work on the papers his steward had laid out for him this morning. His illness and the ensuing siege had caused a great deal of papers to pile up. Out of the corner of his eye he thought he saw a figure glide in, but when he looked up no one was there. Shaking his head angrily at his senses he turned back to the papers to concentrate with renewed vigor.

A faint singing drew his attention away from the work again. "Flower gleam and glow, let your power shine. Make the clock reverse; bring back what once was mine. Heal what has been hurt, change the fates design. Save what has been lost, bring back what once was mine… what once was mine." Jumping to his feet he turned, sure he would find something sinister lurking behind him. The words had been soft but he was sure of the power behind them, the evil magic that was underlying. There was no monster but a slip of girl, not even looking at him, but gazing out the large window panes that stretched high behind him.

He drew his sword, ready for the attack that was coming. "Girl!" She didn't answer. She didn't even move, her dark hair blowing slightly in the breeze that suddenly blew in from the door. Unsure of himself, he reached out with his sword, intending to tap the girl lightly with the flat edge and swearing under his breath when the blade went right through her figure. He quickly backed away, taking stock of his mind as he did so. Unlike when the witch attacked him he felt no disorientation, no pain beside his headache. He studied the ghostly figure closely and felt even better as he realized hers was not a face that haunted his dreams or even recalled a memory. Uther was a hard man, but his subjects were his priority and even those he put to death he tried to remember, if only as a lesson for himself. This girl was a stranger. Her figure was pleasing and encased in a simple green dress, sleeves pushed up to her elbows as she ground small, gold flowers into a mortar, eyes fixed on the horizon. The flowers caught Uther's attention and he felt as if he'd seen the flora before—perhaps somewhere around the castle grounds? "Girl?" He ventured again.

"Iana!" A laughing female voice echoed in the large room, coming from an invisible mouth. "Iana—they've returned!"

The girl finally looked away from the window and Uther took in her large blue eyes, smiling with happiness as she laid the grinding tools on the window ledge. Sweeping out of the room, the skirt of her dress caught the bowl and it crashed toward the floor.

And as suddenly as it toppled, it froze in midair, even the flower petals spilling from its brim coming to a stop inches from the stone. The girl huffed with frustration and she grabbed the mortar from the air and scooped the flowers into it, the pieces regaining gravity as soon as they hit the bottom. She whirled to face Uther, eyes golden, and absent mindedly placed her task on the council table as she swept from the room. During the scene the king had back farther from the magic display and had crossed half the room. As she passed him, her eyes snapped to blue and she turned her head to stare at him. _Help me. _A dark film flashed over her and suddenly she was covered in blood, clothes and body mangled, hair limp with blood, soot, and stone. She was so close he could smell the acidic salt of her blood and see the red film that covered the white of one eye. Breaking their stare, she walked toward the door again and he could see a bloody, flattened dent on the back of her head as if she'd fallen from some height. The haze broke as she moved away, her figure once again lovely and clean. She looked back once more, eyes suddenly pained, "Help me." She said quietly, and then the spell was broken and she smiled, darting out the door. He ran after her in some sort of panicked desperation, but outside the door there was no sight of her. This corridor had no nooks or turns for some time. She had disappeared. A guard looked at him, puzzled, from his post. Uther shuddered and called out, "Get Gaius. Now!" He was careful to shut the door firmly behind him before he went back to his work.

When Gaius arrived he had his old companion check him over carefully, but the physician seemed sure that Uther's madness had not returned. "How can you be so sure?" He couldn't take any chances and wanted to be sure Gaius was positive. It had been so similar… yet different.

The older man took a moment to think about his answer. "I'm sure sire. You're not experiencing any of the negative symptoms you had last time. And if I might be so bold my lord, there has been a rash of other sighting. The figure seen was similar to the one you just described to me."

"Why was I not told!" How was he supposed to protect his people from sorcery when no one would report it? He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated.

"I believe the witnesses in question were afraid of upsetting you, it has not been that long since you were ill sire. In all honestly, I thought they were hallucinating myself, perhaps overworked—I prescribed them a sleeping draught. But I'll be sure to send the next witness to you immediately."

The king frowned and Gaius hoped he wouldn't demand names. "Be sure you do. I want to get to the bottom of this!" He dismissed the physician with a wave and the white haired ex-sorcerer backed from the room.

There had not been quite the multiple sightings that Gaius had implied, but he himself had an encounter with the spirit this morning.

_Earlier that day_

"_You're late Merlin!" He scolded his ward as the boy rushed from the room, mouth full of the stale bread that had been their breakfast._

"_I know!" That was the reply he had assumed Merlin had given, although his mouth was full enough that the words had been mumbled incomprehensively. Rolling his eyes, the old man had gone about his normal routine, readying his satchel with all the medicines and remedies he delivered daily or had been ordered. He had been halfway out the door himself when he realized he'd left Arthur's shoulder salve on his workbench. The prince was practicing his jousting today and always requested something to help with the ache from steadying the lance._

_He'd moved thoughtlessly through the room before literally walking through the ghost. Gasping, he dropped the bag at the cold sensation and sudden feeling of pain that flashed through his mind. Distantly he heard glass breaking as some of the bottles smashed but he kept his eyes on the apparition he'd just walked through. Staring at him, her face was a mess of injury, three deep gashes in her face. He could see small bits of stone embedded in the cuts, which were raw and ragged, not the result of any claws he'd ever seen. Her body was in worst shape—he could see tell tales signs of a long fall in her broken bones and deep pooling bruises, one side of her body was practically crushed and her clothing bore the signs of an vicious fight. He took in the druid symbol on her shoulder but unlike the king, he'd felt only pity for her misfortune, not fear. _

_A person with that much sorrow could be dangerous, but Gaius had felt not hate in her, only pain."Help me." She moaned, reaching out a hand to him. He didn't take it, aware she would simply be cold air against his skin. Suddenly she moved closer, never taking a step but close enough to brush her fingertips against his robes. "Help me!" She screamed, but he didn't move. He couldn't help the dead. "Heal what has been hurt." Crooning softly, her gaze pleaded with him._

"_I can't help you." He softly replied. A flash of blue light passed over her. When his eyes adjusted from the flash he watched in amazement as the girl moved away, whole and well, a large book in her hands. Confident steps took her near the fire, where she knelt, her torn blue dress replaced with an elaborate yellow, the gauzy sleeves cinched with bracelets, the fabric embroidered with gold thread. The pages flipped by themselves as she held a hand over the tomb and said a soft word, her eyes echoing the embers. He moved closer and saw it was a book of magic, similar to the grimoire he'd give Merlin. She traced her finger down the page, stopping at an entry regarding the morteus flower. A grey flash and film surrounded her and saddened her fine clothes were gone and she was broken once again, her finger still posed over the entry. "Help me." There was a clang in the hallway as a servant, probably Merlin, dropped a tray. He took his eyes off of her for a moment to look towards the door and when he glanced back—she was gone._

It had been unsettling, but he'd thought it was his guilty conscious rising up. He'd let so many die during the purge and yet he helped Uther live. He'd thought it had just been his imagination or a sleep deprived hallucination. But if the king had seen the same girl… He needed to discuss this with Merlin as soon as possible. There was something haunting the citadel and considering their string of luck, he had no doubt it didn't bode well.


	3. Chapter 2

I disclaim.

Chapter Two

The horse picked up speed as it responded to Arthur's commands, but the prince could feel its hindquarters rebel for a moment before charging. It was a new stallion, a gift for his father from a nobleman. Uther had been unhappy with its skittish nature and had ordered it sent to one of the city's farms outside the gates, where it would be forced to tow plows too heavy for humans and too light for oxen. The prince had stepped in at the last moment, claiming he could use the beast for tournament play, if not actual battle.

As it was though, the horse was being extremely difficult to train. For god's sake it was afraid of Merlin. The skinny servant was hoisting a target ring into the air, looking petulant. He hated training almost as much as the horse. The beast was definitely holding back. Groaning in frustration, Arthur easily hooked the target, watching with a detached sort of amusement as Merlin dove out of the way as soon as he possibly could. The prince jumped down from the horse, inspecting its legs as he did so—there was nothing wrong with its shoes or muscles, the thing just didn't want to charge. "I'm done for the day." He threw the reins to Merlin, who happily caught them and trotted the horse to the stable boy, apparently assuming that the faster he got the horse out of sight the less likely Arthur would be to change his mind.

Shaking his head, he watched as Merlin exchanged a few words with the other servant, both boys laughing a bit before the stable master called the other back inside. Arthur picked up the water skin Merlin had forgotten to offer him and looked over the rest of the practice field. On the far side, closer to the wall, Sir Leon and a few of the more dedicated were putting their new fellows through their paces. Once, the royal prat, as Merlin was fond of calling him, would have thought Leon and the others were boring and wasting time with their slow and technique driven practice. Now though, Arthur knew that the drills were for the better of the group, and he trusted Leon to help the younger men adjust to the mail and broadsword they'd now be fighting with.

In all his haste to become the best, to prove to his father that he was worthy, he'd looked down on those older men. Ironically, the king had only started to trust his judgment once Arthur had trusted theirs. Closer to them, was Arthur's old group of friends; although he thought friends was a bad description. Laughing and goofing around, they absent mindedly shot crossbow bolts at targets being held by their cowering servants. As Merlin returned he gave them a wide berth, and Arthur was glad the boy had some sort of sense.

The last time Merlin had accidentally interrupted one of their games, he'd become the target in a rather dangerous game of knife throwing. Things could have gotten very out of hand if Gwen hadn't interrupted his impromptu meeting with his father to inform him Merlin was being beaten in the practice yards. Arthur shook his head to rid it of the guilt and anger. He wasn't that sort of person anymore. Those weren't his friends. He studied the faces of the arrogant knights. If any of his men were going to put a girl into a bad position—noble or servant—he knew it would be one of them. But none of the builds or coloring matched what he'd seen last night and he'd never seen the front of the man—only the back of his head.

"Arthur?" Merlin was bobbing next to him, looking sweaty and anxious as he watched his master observe the other men. "Do you… want to go join Sir Anders?" Disgust and panic filled the boy's voice. Anders had taken over as head bully once the prince had stopped spending time with them and he was the one who made Merlin's life the hardest whenever possible.

Arthur forced himself to look away and stop dwelling on the girl's bloody apparition. "No." He slung an arm around Merlin's shoulder. "I want to go hunting."

"But Arthur…" the boy began to complain even as they headed for the castle together. "we were just training. And you went hunting yesterday!"

Despite the servant's best attempts at putting off the trip to the woods, the two were in the forest by noon. After a good hour, the prince tired of his servant's incessant talking and tripping about, and had told him to stay put, call if there was trouble, and run to get the kills when he heard Arthur's signal. Not knowing exactly what the signal was, and not liking Arthur so far out of sight, Merlin silently spelled his feet to be noiseless and followed at a distance. He could do the spell every trip, but what would the fun in that be. Grinning, he sat when it became obvious that Arthur had decided to stop stalking and wait for the prey to come to him. Settling in, he was distracted by a flash of red among the trees. He stood, sure that if danger was about, it would find him. He caught sight of the red again and took off after it, hoping he wasn't wrong and it wasn't doubling back for the prince.

It was in a small clearing that he found his quarry. It was not a band of thieves or bandits, but a single girl. She was slight, but he couldn't help but blush at her beauty as she pushed down her red cloak's hood. Her dark hair and large blue eyes reminded him of someone and he was so busy trying to recall her he missed her words. "I'm sorry." He gave a little bow. "What was that?"

She spoke again, but now he saw she wasn't talking to him, but to an unseen other, her words muffled to his ears. She threw back her head and laughed, or at least he assumed she did—he couldn't hear the actual sound—and as she did so, her loose dark hair fell back from her shoulder exposing the Pendragon crest stitched onto the breast of the cloak. Merlin started. The honor of wearing that symbol was given only to knights of the realm and a few select others, usually important advisors and noblemen of the royal household. Now he looked closer and recalled that Morgana had a cloak very similar to that one, although she rarely wore it, preferring more ornate designs. The girl held out her hand and her eyes glowed as she cast a spell. For a moment, Merlin was sure he saw fire jumping in the wind. Then the girl turned, her blue eyes meeting his full on for the first time. "Help me." She pleaded, hand reaching toward him now, fingers splayed as if she was trying to hold something. For a moment, the light seemed to crackle and change. Merlin used his powers to slow down time and was able to see the girl's body twisting, arm and shoulder cracking and flattening, hair loosing shine and transforming into bloody, sweaty strands. Gashes drawn by an invisible force opened on her face and her mouth screamed for a moment, yelling something too quick for even the young warlock to hear. "Help me!" She screamed as he sped up time again and he stared in horror at the bloody mess where the girl had been. The red cloak was gone, replaced by a ripped and bloody dress and he could see the druid sign on her arm, so like Freya's. A purge victim? Was Uther's madness spreading now? Merlin shook his head. The girl was closer now, her pained eyes, begging him for something. She reached out; about to touch him when Arthur's strong voice broke the moment.

"Don't touch him!" Merlin jumped back falling to his butt in clumsy shock. The prince of Camelot quickly moved in front of his manservant, sword up and ready to defend his friend if necessary. He'd come running as soon as he heard the familiar scream, sure the vision was torturing someone else with her sad countenance. The ghost only looked at his reproachfully, as if she would never have hurt anyone. Arthur snorted, and then remembered that the girl was dead, and one didn't share meaningful glances with the deceased. For his part, Merlin kept trying to get up, only to have Arthur kick him back down again. "What do you want?"

Why couldn't the boy ever manage to stay safe where Arthur stowed him? "Help me." The girl stated and then she flashed back into the clean cloak and turned back to the scene only she could see.

The blonde gasped as he saw the crest, shocked, and Merlin took the opportunity to stand, glaring resentfully at Arthur as he did so. He stepped on a branch, breaking it with a crack, his spell having worn off in shock. The prince snapped his head around to glare at the younger boy, but when they both looked back again the ghost was gone. Sheathing his sword, Arthur whirled on his servant. "YOU are going to tell me _everything_ about what just happened. Now." The knight's voice left no room for argument and Merlin wondered when his master's face had become so stern and king-like. And so, Merlin began talking, leaving out of course, the bits about his own magic, not knowing that by the next day that censoring wouldn't be necessary.

Please review!


	4. Chapter 3

I disclaim.

Chapter Three

Merlin stood silently, his fellow servants in line around him. Gwen was to his left, occasionally smiling at him hesitantly, but the most part they were still, waiting for wine glasses to be raised and plates to be cleared of food. Dinner was the most formal of the castle meals and servants of all participants served the diners. In the mornings, if the three members of the royal household ate together Merlin, Gwen, and Uther's two personal servants switched on and off, but at night they worked together.

It was usually fun to serve with Gwen but tonight it seemed everyone was in a poor mood. Except Morgana, who was almost reveling in the silent worry that plagued her foster father and sibling. Gwen seemed puzzled but Merlin was distracted as well, his mind still on the mysterious girl and the tongue lashing Arthur had given him. The prince had been upset that he'd gotten so close to the apparition without calling for help. Personally, Merlin thought the older boy was overreacting just a bit, but… Arthur had been agitated all day, even before the ghost incident.

Merlin could feel magic building in the room. A prickling was teasing his neck. Thinking back, he remembered a similar feeling in the woods. He studied Morgana, but she seemed oblivious and moment later excused herself from the room and with a glare at Merlin, strode out, Gwen trailing her reluctantly.

Despite her exit the feeling remained, growing until he couldn't help but fidget, Uther's men glaring at him. The two eating men stayed silent, each brooding over their meals.

And then the music began. It was the usual string quartet, and if Merlin didn't know better he would have thought they were in the middle of Morgana's welcome back banquet again. The other servants began to fidget as well. Uther and Arthur jumped to their feet, hands on their sword pommels. "Gaius. Now!" Uther barked and one of his servants practically bolted from the room as the ghostly music played on.

Figures began to appear around them; gentlemen and ladies in fine clothing drank and laughed in groups of two or three. A small group of young knights shimmered into view just Gaius hurried in, doors banging shit behind him. "Out!" Uther shouted again and his servant rushed to the newly closed escape route, dragging the warlock behind him.

Arthur stopped him. "Not you Merlin. Stay." At Uther's questioning gaze he explained, "We saw something like this earlier today. A girl in the woods." At the word girl Uther paled. Arthur continued, "I've seen her before. Last night. If it's the same woman…" he trailed off. If a single girl was haunting Camelot it would be easier to find the cause. But a whole group of ghosts…

As if summoned by her very mention a last figure joined the others. Unlike the wispy apparitions that littered the room, the girl didn't peacefully arrive, but jerked into view. She seemed to stutter, blinking in and out, her grisly bloodied visage switching with a different, elegant dress.

Finally it seemed as if she was solid, and they could see her plainly. A yellow dress, shimmers of gold thread at her sleeves and neck, expensive fabric brushing the floor as she swayed along, keen blue eyes focused on unseen figures. The music swelled and suddenly the ghosts seemed more solid, the girl more alive. It was like the four of them were the unreal ones now, transported to a world they shouldn't inhabit.

Several of the others began to dance. "Lady Iana." One of the knights approached the woman, bowing, smile on his face. She smiled and took his hand but her attention immediately swiveled to the door. The other ghosts looked too and as one, they bowed and curtsied to air. And then the two were dancing, joining the others in a complicated dance that only nobles somehow knew. But the girl's eyes were still focused on the doorway, even as she weaved with invisible figures.

Merlin focused his own eyes, attempting to see what she was. For a moment, out of the corner of his eye a tall figure appeared. He caught a glimpse of a hazy red cape and broad shoulders before the moment was gone and the warlock was staring at air again.

One by one the figures whipped away until only the girl and her partner remained. Then the knight faded and she was dancing alone. She spun and for a moment she was dark, blood matted hair whirling around her. And as suddenly as she appeared she was gone. The room echoed with a bodiless scream. "Help me!" The music stopped, the air was still, and Uther began yelling.

"Magic. Magic! Will we never be rid of this terror?" The king was fuming and Gaius wisely waited until he finished before speaking.

"Sire, I'm not sure this is a malicious attack-"

Uther interrupted. "-not malicious! This ghost has been haunting our halls all day."

"All night." Arthur reminded. "I saw the girl last night. She was with a knight- I didn't recognize the man. And Merlin and I saw her in the woods today. I'm sure it was the same person. Father-" he hesitated, "she was wearing the Pendragon crest."

"Impossible."

"Not," Gaius said slowly, "necessarily. There were a number of druids and sorceresses living in the castle before the purge. Sire."

Arthur frowned, face troubled, probably remembering Morgause's projection of his mother. "Father?"

"It is true that some practitioners resided here—before I realized their heartless, dangerous ways." Merlin had to work very hard to keep the disgusted look off his face. Gaius saw his expression and elbowed him hard in the ribs, silent warning in his eyes.

Arthur ventured, "Before my mother died?"

Silence, thick and overwhelming hung between the king and prince. Merlin broke the tension, asking, "Did you recognize her Gaius? She seemed very—I mean I'd think-," the boy reddened. Arthur could help but grin at his friends awkwardness.

"She's very beautiful. Is that what you're trying to say Merlin? Hmm?"

"Yes." The physician saved his ward from answering. "I do believe I would have recognized such a face. Especially a noble one." He reminded them all of her status, eyes on Uther.

The king scowled, unhappy to think of a noble practicing what he had expressively forbidden. "I don't remember a Lady Iana. But I was often away when I was younger, when the land was more volatile. Perhaps…" his voice trailed off wistfully for a moment. "Perhaps Igraine invited her to court?" It was a question that silenced them all for different reasons. The moment passed quickly as Uther hardened again. "Has anyone else sighted her Gaius?"

"No sire. Only the four of us. And your servants of course."

"They'll say nothing." The physician and warlock shared a look, well aware that nobles had no idea how much servants knew about everything. The whole castle would know about the girl in hours. But even so, no one would say word in front of the king. Fear was an excellent silencer.

The older servant stepped forward thoughtfully to the place where the ghost had seemed the most solid. "Hmm. I wonder…" He probed the air with his fingertips. The others watched silently until Arthur spoke up. "What is it Gaius? Do you have an idea?"

Looking cautiously at his lord Gaius answered. "There was a spell that a number of magic users would occasionally cast when they knew they would soon be killed. Mostly priestess and priests of the Old Religion—it takes a great deal of power." He waved his fingers once more through the air. "It projected a part of them—memories, essence—into the universe. It was created during a time of great upheaval and civil war in the magic realms and communities. The idea behind it was to leave behind a testimonial, post-mortem information, so that if they were killed by a traitor, the villain would be brought to justice."

"A sensible idea." Uther admitted grudgingly. "But why are the memories only fragments, pieces? We've learned little from these visits except terror. And why do they only seem to appear to the people in this room?"

"Well… it would be useless for the memories to play to anyone at anytime. What if they showed themselves only to the traitor or his partners? The spell is cast with a vague direction—it will play for those with the same energies of power and goodness. Magic is smart and fluid—it knows its casters meaning. In this case the memories are shown to those in power—yourself and your son. I have practiced magic—it may be reacting to that."

"And the boy?" The king looked suspiciously at Merlin.

Gaius jumped to the rescue. "Merlin has never seen the girl alone like the rest of us. It may be that the ghost is simply sensing Arthur or myself when he is around. It is not an exact art."

Arthur happily moved the subject away from his servant. "But why the half memories? It's like the girl is underwater sometimes. She isn't speaking to us as much as giving us hints."

"As I remember, there is a spell that the viewer needs to recite in order to fully view them. It will be us that is pulled into her world, as it is. Our bodies will remain here but our minds will travel with her—to the people and places that her magic deems most important to her cause."

"And once that is done, once we have seen them, she will… disappear?" Arthur tried to understand, not quite grasping the idea being unfamiliar with magic.

The white haired man nodded. "Yes. The spell only wants to show us the events—it's up to the viewer to enact the vengeance."

Uther frowned, finally sitting down. "I don't like the idea of using magic. Especially magic that will affect our minds. But… I suppose we have no choice if we want to be rid of these apparitions. We can't have ghosts popping up everywhere. It's a small comfort that there is barely anyone in residence as it is."

"We all have to go into the memory thingies?" Merlin finally spoke, his curiosity winning over his fear of the king.

"I believe that will be the safest plan. I don't know if the visions will keep appearing if all the intended viewers do not participate." Gaius nodded at Merlin. "We should go to my rooms and look for the exact wording of the spell. I don't believe this is something we should be carelessly wording. Your highness?" He looked for permission from the king.

The man sighed. "Yes, go, go. Arthur, find Leon. I want him to guard the doors while we do this wretched task. I don't want anyone taking advantage of our situation while our minds are elsewhere. We will meet back here in an hour—this seems as good a place as any to wait for a ghost. And everyone—this isn't to be mentioned to Morgana. She's had enough to deal with as it is—I don't want her upset."

They went their separate ways, Merlin scurrying after Gaius before Arthur could order him otherwise. Once they were out of earshot he voiced his concerns. "That was too close—the king questioning why she appeared to me. What if this goes badly and I have to use magic to get us out of the memories?" He helped Gaius climb up a ladder, the older man teetering ominously as he searched for the correct book. "It's hard enough hiding all my last minute saves from Arthur. Uther already hates me. He's not going to look the other way while I save the day."

"Don't be so full of yourself Merlin." Gaius had found the tomb and was flipping through it quickly. "The king doesn't notice you enough to hate you. But your right—using magic will be out of the question unless you plan on being burnt as soon as we wake." He looked up, revealing his serious expression. "You must not perform any magic in front of Uther. Absolutely nothing Merlin—not even a small enchantment."

"So you get to perform a serious memory spell on his orders but I can't even mend a button?" The young warlock scowled. "I hate this stupid trip already."


	5. Chapter 4

I disclaim.

Chapter 4

They had been sitting for a couple of hours before she came again. Uther was going over papers, determined to work if he had to be awake. Arthur was reluctantly helping him read through and sort the reports, occasionally looking over at Merlin longingly. After the first hour the boys had gotten bored and invented a sort of game involving his gauntlets, which Merlin was supposed to be polishing, and the dried dates the kitchen had sent in. That had lasted as long as Uther could stand the sound of competitive bickering and laughter, which turned out to be about thirty minutes. Since the king had loudly called the game to a close, Arthur had been forced to read and Merlin was half heartedly polishing the rest of Arthur's armor. Every so often though he would toss a date into the perfect hoop the wrist shield formed, smiling at his master's pathetic expression.

The prince had been losing right as Uther lost it, and so Merlin had technically won the game, which frustrated the boy even more than his forced paperwork confinement.

Even Gaius seemed to be feeling the late hour and inactivity, occasionally falling asleep in the fern he'd brought to examine. Finally Merlin felt the back of his neck tingle. "I think… I think one's starting."

The four men stood, Arthur sure to move as far from the papers as possible in the process. As usual, Iana jerked into view, her painful wounds fighting for dominance with the dark green dress that Uther had seen her in the first time. A minute later a blond girl appeared beside her, the two smiling as they walked toward the table. "Now." Gaius said. "We should go now."

"Should we sit?" Merlin wasn't looking forward to adding another bruise to his collection if he could avoid it.

"Good idea Merlin." The nobles moved to the table but Gaius cautioned. "Actually sires, I would suggest the floor near the wall. When we go into the memories someone may be sitting there—I'm sure it wouldn't be a pleasant experience." Arthur remembered his brush with the girl the previous night and quickly moved to where Merlin was already getting settled. After a moment of silence Uther joined them and Gaius did the same. "Ready? _Yrtis cawer memoria_." The four felt a tugging deep in their navels and then… nothing. Arthur opened his eyes, feeling like he fell off a horse and was just opening his eyes. He didn't hurt but he didn't remember. Where was he? When? Wait. "I think… I think it worked."

It all came back to him and the prince turned his head to see the others in similar states of unease. Merlin, on the end, turned his head and dry wretched for a moment. Arthur was torn between being amused and worried, but he could feel his father's eyes on him and so simply settled on being indifferent. He stood, meaning to lean of Merlin for support and silently show compassion, but almost fell as he realized his hand went right through the servant. It was like Merlin was the ghost. "Gaius!" He yelled, now openly worried about his sort-of-friend.

"It's alright Arthur." The physician raised his own hand and brought it down through the prince's arm. It was uncomfortable but didn't hurt. It also didn't create the cold feeling that he'd felt with Iana. "It's a side effect of the memory spell. This is her mind, her memory. We can't affect anything in it—or each other—while we're here."

"Let's just watch the damn things so we can get out of here." Uther was striding toward the table, where the two girls were now sitting.

A girl who must have been a servant was filling their glasses with cider as they talked. "I'm telling you Iana, you'll miss me when I'm gone. Who else will go on those abhorrently long rides with you? And I have to tell you—all that reading you do—not exactly the way a girl should go about finding a husband."

The servant stepped away, allowing a better look at both females. "She was wearing that dress when I saw her during the day." Uther commented, unsure if it was important but not willing to leave out details that may impact their success. The green dress made the blue of her eyes almost more intense and added lightness to the orbs. Arthur stared at them; sure he'd seen a similar color and shape before.

Breakfast, a light one, was placed before the girls. "Thank you Cassandra." Iana nodded at the servant, odd behavior for a noble. "I'm not saying I won't miss you Igraine. I'm saying that it will be nice to have a minute to myself once in a while."

Arthur physically jerked forward when his mother's name was mentioned, his head snapping to look at his father. But Uther was shaking his head. "That's not, that's not Igraine." Merlin jerked his hand forward, wanting to comfort his friend, before he realized he couldn't do anything, and lowered it to his side.

"Besides," Iana continued, "you're just getting married. You're not throwing yourself off a cliff."

"I," the blond sniffed the air, "am marrying a prince from Bovia. I'll be an entire week's ride away! Not to mention I'll be married to a Bovian! I might as well throw myself off a cliff." Her blond hair was in tight curls around her head, expertly fashioned. She had a wide, happy face, with deep brown eyes, and mocha skin that seemed to glow. Her round figure was charming, her entire person shining with an inner kindness.

The girls laughed. "I thought you liked Charlton?"

"I do, thank goodness. Although father would never force me to marry someone I didn't love—but I might do it anyway, if Camelot-"

"Prospered for it? You are predictable."

The blond shook her hair. "And you are clearly not going to do as I say. Insolent servant."

"No I am certainly not going to move to another territory for you, bossy princess." Their laughter echoed through the room.

"What is this?" Uther demanded, unhappy with the total confusion this was producing.

As he spoke, Gwen walked in, speaking quietly to someone behind her. But this Gwen was dressed richly; her dark hair piled on her head, an attendant on her heels. "Yes your majesty." The servant trailing Gwen was jotting something down, nodding as the woman spoke. Because the other thing that was different about Morgana's maid was that she was older, around Uther's age, and perched on her head, among the dark tresses was a shining crown.

At her entry, Iana stood and curtsied, although the other girl, Igraine, remained seated. "Your majesty," and "Hello mother," accompanied her as she walked to the table.

Arthur stared, transfixed at this sudden development, but Uther wasn't as tranquil. "What is the meaning of this! Gaius!"

"The memories can only show the past of the owner sire. They cannot be…" the older man looked at Arthur quickly, "modified or made to show lies."

"Arthur? What is this?"

The prince startled, unsure. "I don't… I mean, father, Gwen is… well she's…" he looked at the older version again, now seated next to the blond girl, the two glowing with the same inner beauty, "she's beautiful."

"She's a serving girl!"

"You can't condemn me for something I didn't do! I don't know what this is!" He continued to watch the three women. "And you can't blame Gwen either. She had nothing to do with anything." From the way his eyes were watching her, nothing could be farther from the truth, but Uther could do little about it now. Except glare.

Arthur turned to meet his father's stare and Merlin was reminded of two rocks, neither one moving despite plow ox heading toward them. "Sire if I may?" Gaius spoke up. "Neither of the children has done anything… we don't know what is going on, and nothing can be done until we can escape this sequence."

"Then get us out of here!"

"I'm afraid your highness, that is impossible. Once the spell has begun it must finish." He stared at the table. "If I may venture a guess? I assumed, because I have little knowledge of the spell, that it can only be used with contemporaries or future persons. But it may be possible, using advanced, powerful magic, to send the spell backwards. To have those who view the message, save the sender. To, in essence, save yourself."

"Help me." Merlin muttered under his breath, sharing a meaningful look with Arthur.

Now Uther scoffed. "Then the girl was a fool. No sorceress will be saved under my rule."

"Father!" Arthur suddenly shouted, outraged at the cold cruelty his father was showing. He seemed as surprised as all of them to have said anything but Merlin could practically see him gather his courage. "It is possible that not all those who practice magic are evil. Perhaps this girl deserves to be saved."

"After all you have seen, after all Camelot has dealt with, you would say such a thing?" Uther seemed to be warring with himself, deciding whether he was outraged or disappointed.

Arthur raised himself up for a fight, one eye still on Gwen. "Magic has been used for good. A light saved me in the caves when I was looking for the mortius flower. Gaius used magic—you don't automatically denounce him."

But the fight was interrupted by the loud entrance of a knight, his red cape trailing him theatrically. He gave a half-hearted bow and grinned charmingly at the women. "Excuse me ladies. I hate to interrupt such a clear gathering of beauty and intelligence-" the girl, Igraine giggled and waved a piece of bread at him, while Gwen and Iana just rolled their eyes, "-but I'm afraid that Iana's father has need of her. That is, well…" he looked at bit sheepish, "we seem to have gotten ourselves in a bit a… situation, and are requesting your services."

"We?" Gwen's eyebrow rose knowingly and she smiled, shooing the dark haired girl away with a waving hand. "Honestly. The three of you are as bad as ever. Go on Iana—obviously higher intelligence is called for."

"I resemble that remark!" The knight grinned once more, and offered his arm to the druid girl, who accepted it and they stepped out into the hallway. "You know, sometimes I think she gives us too little credit—we always manage to make it out alive." He mused as they stood out into the direction of the library.

The scene shifted, blurred just like the disappearing ghosts and when they reappeared into the scene they were in the library. Arthur looked at the tombs with distaste. He'd spent too many hours in here on lessons—more than he'd cared to remember and most that didn't even stick. It was by far his least favorite room in the castle. Not to mention the damn librarian was creepy.

"I hate this damn place!" Apparently he could not project his thoughts aloud. But no. Gaius waved them forward from where he was peeking over the stacks. An older version of himself, and damn if he didn't still look good, was standing in the center of a small clearing of shelves. At least, Arthur assumed he was standing. His lower extremities were invisible from the waist down. He was still dressed in a red shirt, although this one seemed a bit more formal, and the top of a scabbard could still be seen. The prince, now presumably king, had grown a beard, which partially covered a scar that cut down through his cheek across his jaw.

What could have been a distinguished look was ruined but the petulant pose and whine that accompanied his declaration. "Stand still sire." The girl, Iana was carefully putting down a circle of charcoal around where he was presumably standing. "I need this to be as close as possible." Every now and then she reached out and presumably poked his leg. "How did this happen anyway?" She turned away to get more charcoal and the four time travelers saw her grin grow as soon as her back was to Arthur.

"Your clumsy moron of a father decided that it would be a good idea to play a practical joke!"

"Excuse me!" A voice sounded from nowhere. Arthur elbowed, or tried to elbow, Merlin. Because the speaker was Merlin. Arthur wasn't sure of a lot, but he was sure that the outraged tones were his servants, despite being a little lower and confident. "This was your plan! It's not my fault Gwaine managed to trip the spell too early and it backfired onto us!"

"My idea! That's… well…it's the principle of the thing!"

A scuffling and the sound of soft shoes echoed from an area to older Arthur's right. "Stay in the circle!" Iana instructed sternly, the four looked down and saw another circle had been created, now slightly smudged by its occupant. "The two of you-"

"Hey!" Twin call of protest came from the circles. The knight, perched on a table and watching the scene with glee, adopted a look of hurt that was ruined by the mischievous mirth in his eyes.

"-three of you are ridiculous. Playing pranks! Ruler and influencers of the city and this is how you spend your time? I'd expect as much from him-" she hooked a thumb at the knight, Gwaine, "but the king? And my own father? I'll be telling the queen about this, you mark my words."

Old Arthur started. "But-" he stopped mid protest and turned to speck at air. "This is your entire fault Merlin!" the four jerked themselves, all turning to look at the small servant. Gaius with dread, Arthur with disbelief, and Uther with cold anger. "I ask you to do a little magic—barely a curse—and you screw it up! Some court sorcerer."

"At least your half visible you clotpole!"

"That's even worse!" He looked affronted and glanced around. "What if someone'd come in eh? It's undignified."

Iana muttered a few words, splashing the charcoal with some water even as her eye's glowed. Arthur's bottom half appeared and a second later, an older version of Merlin followed. "Undignified—yes well it's not as if you've never been embarrassed before." He put up fingers behind his head, mimicking ears. "He-haw."

"You little-" King Arthur lunged, knocking the two into Gwaine, who simply rolled off the table and then dove back into the little fray.

Iana and the four memory travelers watched in surprise as the three each tried, unsuccessfully, to get the upper hand while inflicting no real damage. The girl recovered first. "I'll just be going then. Maybe I'll crush some mortius flower for later—just in case you accidently maim each other." She walked away just as older Merlin, currently on top of the pile, silently called a heavy book to his cause, eyes flaming gold.

The scene faded as she left, taking her mind and memories with her, but as the landscape swirled, three pairs of eyes, swiveled to focus on Merlin. The last thought he had, as he backed up into nothingness, was that it was a good thing no one could touch him. Because he was pretty sure otherwise he'd be strangled.

AN: DuhDuhDun: The great reveal!

Please Review!


	6. Chapter 5

I disclaim.

Chapter 5

When the travelers and room were solid again, Merlin had the misfortune of feeling a light tickle as around ninety kilos of pissed off prince ran through him. He could only assume that the intention had been to tackle him—a plan that failed miserably considering their transparent status. The warlock couldn't help but find it amusing that older and younger Arthur had the same inclination.

"I wouldn't be smiling if I was you sorcerer." Uther practically spat the word. "When we get back you'll be going right to the stake." Someone the king's cold fury was much more frightening than Arthur's half hearted attempts to subdue him. At the moment, the prince was trying to punch him, screwing his eyes shut in concentration as he attempted to will them both solid, fists flying uselessly.

But he seemed to snap out of it when his father said stake. "What? Father…" Uther turned to look at him, cold eyes warming at the sight of his son looking so distraught.

"Don't worry son. This traitor will be taken care of as soon as we can escape this farce of a memory."

"No, I… I mean…Merlin does have to… he won't," the blonde boy stiffened his resolve and his back. "I won't let you kill my servant. My… my friend."

Uther's face was thunderous, kind expression disappearing. "What!"

"What?" Merlin spoke up almost immediately after Uther, a small trickle of hope moving through him.

"Merlin shut up!" Arthur didn't even look at the smaller boy.

"But-"

"Shut up!"

"You don't even like me!" The statement burst from the servant as if it came from someone else's mouth.

Finally the prince looked at him. Even when he'd been trying to hit him their eyes hadn't met. Merlin was shocked to see that Arthur was… was almost crying. Not quite—certainly the prat would deny it—but enough that his eyes were hazy with tears. "I'm not—I don't…you're a moron you know." He looked at his father quickly. "And a sorcerer. But you're… you are my friend Merlin. Maybe my only friend."

Unable to think of anything to say Merlin blurted, "Gwen's your friend."

Arthur blushed. "Gwen is—she's different. You're my friend Merlin, more than anyone else." This time he sounded sure of it, all confusion gone from the statement.

"I don't know what to—you're my friend too." He smiled brilliantly around his own almost tears. "Arthur I-"

The blonde punched him in the arm. Well tried to. "Shut up you dolt. I'm still angry."

"As you should be." Uther added venomously. "He's lied to all of us. All this time he's been plotting against us. Against Camelot."

"Merlin? Plotting?" Arthur raised an unbelieving eyebrow. "He's not exactly… an evil genius."

Gaius cleared his throat. "And your highness, the boy has admitted to magic—several times." Despite the casual words the old man's tone was hard. "Merlin has done nothing to hurt you or this kingdom—in fact he has many time protected Camelot. Even you, Uther." He looked at the king straight in the eye. "Despite his having every reason to do the opposite. Enough sire. Enough of this hatred. I have always been loyal, sometimes despite my good judgment. If I dare—I have always been _your friend_. But if you put Merlin to death you must burn me as well. Because I will no longer serve you—I will try my best to destroy you." The boys gasped at the serious declaration. Uther could have him killed for simply the words alone. The men stared, neither at anything in particular. Arthur moved his hand to his useless sword out of tense habit.

Finally the king spoke. "You make me choose?"

The physician nodded. "Here, now, we must all make a choice my lord. Everyone of us. Merlin made his choice the second he saved you son from that witches dagger. I have. Your son," he nodded at Arthur, "Seemingly has as well. Choices are inevitable in this life. I urge you to make the right one—you did not do so, long ago—now you have the opportunity.

Uther's eyes moved across Arthur, then Merlin, before locking on Gaius. He nodded and said no more, turning from the group.

Merlin leaned to his mentor. "So am I… living?"

"For now." Gaius hushed him. "Now watch. There is something here we need to learn." He gestured to the scene they had been ignoring.

The gangly boy turned to watch but was distracted for a moment by Arthur's voice, close and quiet in his ear. "When we get out of here you tell me everything. Everything, sorcerer."

"Warlock, actually." Merlin replied mildly. "I'm a warlock doofus." Arthur tried to hit him once more, and then they both turned back to the memory.

They were at the inner citadel gates. A large party of guards and noblemen, all slightly dark in complexion, were gathered on horses and wagons, waiting to leave. On the steps, young Igraine was hugging older Arthur, the king clutching her close for a minute before pushing her toward her mother. Behind him was a young knight, tan with brown hair. He seemed rather emotional himself, a sad smile pulling at his mouth as he watched the girl say goodbye to Gwen. The older knight from the last moment, Gwaine graced the scene as well, standing beside what looked like an older version of Lancelot, who looked at the goodbyes painfully. The two seemed uneasy with each other, the funny knight glaring at the common born fighter out of the corner of his eye. Other ladies and gentlemen of the house also lined the steps, a respectful distance away. But older Merlin and Iana stood right beside the royal family. After Merlin gave her a kiss, the newly married princess turned to her taller friend, they embraced, whispering to each other quietly for a minute. Finally the princess pulled away, keeping their hands clasped. "You will miss me?" The words that had seemed so full of jest in the earlier memory were now laced with anxiety.

"Every moment." Igraine was crying but Iana was dry eyed as the two hugged again briefly. Breaking away, the princess turned to her new husband, who had been lingering behind her.

He was a handsome young man, slightly round himself, with a large nose and kind face, he smiled at her crying affectionately, then gave a slight bow to the royal family before helping Igraine to her horse and mounting himself. "I will inform my father of your kindness," the prince nodded to older Arthur, "your majesties." He looked at his wife, "I am sure we will return soon." And then they were riding away. Gwen buried her face in Arthur's chest but Iana pulled away from her father's arm.

"Iana!" But she was gone, running into the main building and out of sight. The four were pulled after her, and rather than be dragged along by the memory, ran long after her on their own accord. They stopped at the top of one of the battlements, a few feet behind Iana, who was throwing up her hands. From her cupped appendages a small ball of blue light flew up, growing as it went higher. The girl leaned over the platform, only one hand raised now a goodbye. Uther, Gaius, and Merlin moved forward, watching as the group of travelers, now moving outside the city gates, grew smaller. But one horse stopped and its rider turned, watching the light grow in the sky. Igriane raised her own hand once more before turning to catch up with her husband. When Iana turned from the sight, she leaned against the tower guarding the end of the space. She was finally crying.

Arthur however, was too busy to see; watching the ball of light as it moved toward the sun. It was exactly like the one that had guided him from the cave. The prince looked at Merlin, who was obliviously watching his daughter sob with concern. His servant was fretting, his hands moving from his side out as if to comfort the girl. Staring, Arthur realized he really didn't care if Merlin was a sorcerer or a warlock or even just a servant. He was a good person. And he was his friend. He smiled fondly at the clumsy boy.

And then, just for the hell of it, tried to punch him again.


	7. Chapter 6

AN: Alright I changed this up. I was trying to go somewhere but it wasn't relevant to the plot. So re-written! Also Jissai—here's some bad-ass Merlin for you.

Chapter 6

The next memory moved them to the stables. Uther ducked out of the way of a bucking horse, momentarily forgetting their safe, ghost like status. The groom that he appeared next to was not so lucky, and received a hoof to the shoulder and the unhappy animal tried to fight its way out of the stall. "Get out of there lad!" A man bearing the ferriers designation on his tunic yanked the boy away and slammed the door shut. "Let the beast tire itself out."

The horse bucked and kicked, anger and panic driving it to keep fighting the unmoving walls. The stall door inched open slowly and Iana slipped in, arms wide in front of her, blue riding dress swirling around her feet. "Shh, shh now." She locked eyes with the animal, her own glowing gold. "Hush." She moved slowly forward, and with every step the animal calmed, until finally it just stood, occasionally shuffling one of its leg. "There." She stood there a moment, both hands flat on the horses flank, then she moved her hand slowly across its back and hindquarters. "See. It's not so bad here."

"Well you are a pretty welcoming committee." Iana and the four looked the stall entrance. A young man, dressed in groom's clothing stood there, one hand loosely grasping a bridle. His blue eyes sparkled in the light coming from the hanging lanterns, brown hair changing shades as they swung, still moving from the animals attack on the structure.

Iana smiled slightly. "I wasn't planning on being any committee. But someone just abandoned a wild, scared horse in the stables. Where _my _horse is. I wonder what thoughtless, egotistical young knight would do that?" The four examined the man, not expecting such a figure to be taking care of a wild horse—especially not in such simple clothing.

The man smiled and raised his hand, wiggling the fingers sarcastically. "That would be me. Although, I think it should be noted that when I left, there were servants in here." He stepped closer to the pair, carefully moving the bridle in his hand, tossing the leather so it could slip right over the horses nose.

"Well of there were servants… by all means, let the animal destroy the building."

"Your sarcasm is noted." He skillfully put the leather straps on the animal, which was still being calmed by Iana's magic. Carefully stroking its nose and then pulling, he managed to place the bit without losing a finger. "And, by the way, just as appealing as ever." He grinned at her.

She stepped away, removing her hands from the horse, who immediately bucked. The man jerked back to avoid the initial kick, falling into a pile of hay and manure. She laughed and the horse gave one last snort and then calmed down, sniffing at the feed that had been placed out for it. "Speaking of appealing…"

Brushing manure from his backside, the man scowled. "Not funny."

"A little funny." Soon they were both smiling, watching the horse explore its small new home. "Beautiful. Where did you find him?" Her eyes were on the horse, so she didn't see, the way the time travelers did, the admiring glance the knight sent her.

"Beautiful indeed. He was wandering near the Camelot border. Probably the foal of some escaped war horse—he has spirit though."

She nodded, picking up some clean hay and offering it to the animal. "An important quality in a jousting horse—that is what you'll use him for?"

"You read my mind." He smiled and watched the horse snatch the food, affection lining his words. "You always were the smartest girl I ever met."

She frowned. "Smartest girl James? Because women are naturally moronic?"

"No." He sighed, pulling a frustrated hand through his hair. "Why is everything I say to you sound like a criticism?" They both looked away, trying to focus on the horse instead of the growing tension. "I hear," he began awkwardly, "from Sir Benedict that he's to escort you at the ball tomorrow."

Iana snorted in a good imitation of the horse. "Yes. He wants to 'lessen my distress at being left alone by my friend, unmarried still'." They shared a smile, anger from earlier dissipating as she mocked her suitor.

"I seriously doubt being married has anything to do with it."

"Really." She grinned, and Arthur was struck by how similar she looked to Merlin when she did so. If only her ears were larger.

"You could be married—if you wanted. You… you're just as lovely as the day I left… my lady." Standing in silence, except for the harsh breathing of the horse and the creaking of the wind against the stable, they seemed almost frozen, more ghost-like than they had since the spell began.

Arthur started as he stared at the two. "That's him! That's the knight that I saw last night—from the hallway!"

As if moved by the prince's words, James reached for the girl's hand. "Besides, if you wanted to be married you would have said yes… when I asked you." Iana opened her mouth, about to reply when the ferrier slammed the door open, a now obsolete bridle in his hand.

The horse started, then the couple, and then the servant, whose mouth dropped open even as he sank to a knee. "Your highness, I'm sorry I-"

"I have to go." Iana yanked her hand from the young man's and weaved her way around the ferrier, running for the stable doors, as she disappeared from sight the memory ended, swirling as the knight, actually prince, started after her.

"Iana! And then the darkness ended the shocking scene.

"My Lady Iana!" The four did not have time to recover from the information, as they were immediately dumped in Gaius' tower.

The next memory seemed tame, although the four seemed choked with the unsaid and private thoughts. Pushing aside the awkwardness they tried to focus on their surroundings. Arthur rarely ventured up to visit Merlin and Gaius' space, but he didn't think there were this many books even in their own time. Older Merlin was absent but Iana seemed untroubled by the solitude, casually moving about the room. After a moment she disappeared up to what was Merlin's small nook. The four popped their heads in, only to find the room covered in even more books, the only sign of life being the now slightly larger bed that sat in the center of the room, but even it was littered with small tombs and codices, some looking like they'd been slept on. The four adjourned to the larger room, taking in the changes. Now instead of medicines, potions sat in cauldrons, but other than that it was so much the same, that if it wasn't for the rustling coming from the nook, they could have been home. The door opened and older Merlin walked in, tripping over a small stool, his eyes glued to the papers he was reading. Rubbing his calf, he set them down, walking to the fire to check a brew. Merlin recognized both his own scrawl and Arthur's tidy, bureaucratic handwriting on the discarded sheets.

He took a minute to look over himself. Apparently he'd done alright. He was tall, and surprisingly, broad shouldered when he stood up straight enough to be noticed. Still unbearably skinny, but a thin layer of muscle seemed to have developed over his lanky frame. Short, uncombed hair topped his head, and he was clean shaven, emphasizing the rather ugly scar that ran along his left eye to the middle of his cheek. A number of other small scars littered his face and hands, one even peeking out from the top of his shirt at his throat. Overall though he seemed alright—all limbs present; no evidence of burning or hanging. They saw Iana's head pop out from the inner room, smile at her father's absent expression and then duck back, unseen. Merlin didn't notice her, but after a moment, his back stiffened, face a mask of cool anger. "Hello Morgana."

"Merlin." Morgana purred, her form slipping into sight as if some was pulling back a curtain. "How do you always know?"

"The stench of evil is rather distinctive, don't you think?" He turned to face her calmly.

Uther gave the young servant a hard look, "What is this?"

The boy stammered, "I…I don't know." Iana looked out once more than moved back into the dark safety of the smaller room, her face awash with fear.

The king's ward, older now herself, rounded with age, a blue ribbon tied around her forehead, smirked. "That's not very kind." She stood, casually running a finger over the table, occasionally peering at book titles. "So how is your little brat? Inga?"

"_Iana_ is well—what do you want?" Merlin didn't take his eyes off her, taking her movements with clenched fists.

"Small talk _old friend._ Why do I have to want anything? _Iana _then—I was just wondering. Tell me, does she have gills? I would think, considering her mothe-" but she didn't finish, as older Merlin crossed the room in an instant, hand curling around her throat. He slammed her hard against the bookshelf, her head whipping back to crack against it.

Uther jerked forward, wanting to go to her defense. Gaius pushed Merlin behind him, ready to shield him from the man's anger should it come to it. "You shut your mouth about that. Not a word about Freya, Morgana, or so help me I will strike you down." He slammed her one more time and then loosened his hold but kept his grip on her neck. She smiled.

"But not kill me, right Merlin? You only try to kill the defenseless; it's no fun if they know what you're doing." She sneered and he let her go as if burned.

He stepped back. "That was a long time ago," He sounded tired now, the rage absent for a moment. "Let the past go Morgana—it's over now."

"It's never over!" She shrieked and her eyes glowed a blazing gold as she threw out a hand, hurling fire at the sorcerer. Merlin stepped forward, catching the blaze with his hand then twisting it to the ground, turning it to sand grains that scattered the floor. Rage once again evident, he called a bolt of lightning that soared toward Morgana before shattering as it was met by a cloud of earth. Morgana shrieked again and all the glass in the room shattered, shards hurling toward Merlin even as a blue pulse surrounded him, the glass bouncing harmlessly off it.

He threw up his hand and the air in the room went static, papers and glass slowing down as he walked to the angry woman. For a moment, she was caught in the spell but then broke free striding to meet him halfway, insane anger consuming her features. Magic was apparently forgotten as she slapped him, full in the face, his cheek reddening even as his face slammed sideways. She leaned back to hit him again but he caught her arms and pulled her close. "Enough." His voice was full of dark power and Arthur was in momentary awe of its command as she seemingly lost momentum, features softening. Then they were kissing, Morgana's arms still trapped in Merlins grip, his face spotty red from her slap.

Young Merlin's jaw dropped and Arthur sputtered. Uther was just still, which seemed much more dangerous.

"Merlin!" Arthur's voice echoed into the room from the hall. As if forced by gravity, Merlin shoved Morgana away even as she pulled her face from his. They stood, silent in hateful passion for a moment before the voice sounded again. "Merlin!"

Morgana sneered at the voice. "Tell my dear brother I said hello." Then with a bang she was gone, a cloud of sand rising in her wake. Arthur's head snapped to Uther, but the man seemed shocked beyond any reason.

"Merlin! What in the devils name are you doing? I've been calling for minutes?" King Arthur was in a similar outfit from the earlier memory, except this time his lower half was visible. The crown was sitting crooked on his head and seemed flustered. "Honestly. Baron's run amok and here you are, daydreaming away." He looked around. "What the hell happened in here man?" He kicked at a book that had been knocked to the floor in the fight. "Merlin I know you're rubbish at cleaning but this is ridiculous! You have to set an example! You say you don't want a servant but then look at this place." He raised his eyebrows at his friend, taking in the troubled expression. "Are you alright? Merlin?"

Older Merlin smiled, disarmingly. If the group didn't know better they'd think nothing was wrong. "It's fine. I'll… clean it when I get back. Not to worry." Then he summoned the correct papers to him and followed his king from the room, leaving four confused travelers and a shocked daughter. Iana poked her head around again, but they were surprised to see her duck back again. But then the door swung close, seemingly of its own accord. Morgana appeared again, now with a calmer, almost kind expression, revealing her hiding spot. She looked around the room, something almost like guilt crossing her face. She held up her hands and the room, or rather the objects inside it, began to spin. Potions, herbs, paper, and books flew into their proper places in the blink of an eye. Morgana crossed to the center table and then, almost tenderly, swept the sand from an open book and place two small blue stones on the pages. She looked around once and then, as if putting on a cloak, disappeared. The door opened and then shut again as she left just as silently as she entered. A sound of a creaking door drew their attention to Merlin's room. Iana exited, her face covered in shock, she looked around the room, her chosen book held loosely in one hand.

The spell pulled them away, speeding up now as the memories began to climax, leaving them with only more questions.

Landing outside of the kings study, they got their bearings just as Iana jogged toward them, red riding cloak, Pendragon crest on its breast, swirling behind her like billowing fire. The guard outside stepped forward, face worried. "It's not for my ears my lady." He jerked his head toward the door and then stepped away, heading toward the exit.

Iana stepped closer, leaning into the door, ear cocked to listen. She whispered under her breath and the voices seemed to carry under the door, almost floating up to linger in front of her. Inside, Merlin and Arthur were shouting, yelling. The two younger men looked at each other, surprised by the true anger that was clear. "I will not have you question my authority!"

"And I will not allow you to squander it." Unlike Arthur, Merlin wasn't shouting, but his voice was low and dangerous. All three travelers looked at the gawky boy with shock, but he seemed just as surprised as anyone. "Do not turn a blind eye to this—already events have been put into motion that could ruin us all."

The sound of a goblet hitting the floor rang out, causing all five listeners to jerk back in surprise. "Do not lecture me. This is not your concern."

A pause. "You are my concern. Do not forget—I made you this life." Outside Merlin stepped back, even as Arthur turned shocked, betrayed eyes on him. "Do not take this lightly—or it will all be taken away."

"Get out." Now Arthur matched to powerful tone of the warlock.

"With pleasure." Merlin opened the door and looked back, his eyes glowing with golden fire. "Two sides—I do this for you." But Arthur wasn't looking, his face turned to the small fire that burned in the room, and made no acknowledgement. He glanced at his daughter, his face grave. "Come with me." Silently, each radiating a power that rolled off of their unsuspecting figures, they cut an imposing pair in the hall. From seemingly out of nowhere, Gwaine eased from the shadows, an eerie echo of Morgana. Merlin nodded back to the hall. "You know what to do."

The knight inclined his head. "Indeed." The smiling man was all seriousness now. He looked around and then added. "The boy's about, be sure you're not followed."

Then they split ways, the knight going the way they came and the two magicians moving toward the stables, the four travelers following them in silence. The scene dissolved and then reformed in a moment, and it was clear that it was the same memory, sometime later. The two were on horses now, Merlin looking strangely competent for someone so clumsy. "You saw the druids?" Merlin still seemed concerned about something, his face grave as he watched the horizon. They'd obviously traveled by both animal and magic, because the two waited at the edge of the land, a place that even Uther and Arthur had only heard of in stories. The cliff jutted out, a green oasis among the rocky cliff face and rough blue green seas that crashed on them.

Iana nodded. "Something's coming. The earth speaks of a great change," she glanced at her father. "They ask for Emrys."

"They will have to wait." His voice was tight. "War comes to Albion—this is only the beginning." Clouds were moving quickly, rushing towards them with almost frightening speed as lighting danced on the water. He reached into his belt and pulled out a small bag. "Here—" he tossed them, "a gift. From Avalon."

She peered inside and paled. "But you-"

"They're mine to do with what I please. I give them to you—use them wisely," he cautioned and them the storm was upon them. Instead of running, the two turned their faces to the storm, taking in the power of it. Merlin threw out a hand, tossing lighting that was returned by the cloud. Iana's cloak swirled around her and with a toss of her hair, a whirlwind tossing the grass and earth around her. The image faded away as they laughed, thunder echoing around them.


	8. Chapter 7

AN: Thanks for all the great reviews guys! They're the best part of the day! Special shout outs to ruby890, TheWeepingAngel, and Jissai who've been following since the beginning! And now…

Chapter 7

The next memory deposited them next to a lake, its tranquil shores surrounded by mountains and forest. Iana was kneeling by the water, trailing one finger in the water, slowly making circles with the digit. James, emerging from the woods, crossed to Iana, allowing his horse to graze freely with the sorceress'. "Anything I should know?" He gestured to the water, half serious. "Or are you just gossiping?"

She smiled and absently tapped the surface, causing it to steam. "Honestly, I don't know. It's not…" frustrated, she sighed, "I can't see anything. Something's… blocking me."

The prince frowned, sitting down beside her, carefully making sure he wasn't too close to the water or any mud. The four noticed that Iana was practically in the lake, her dress swirling in the shore's edge. "Maybe it's just the day?" He glanced up. "The weather or something?'

"Perhaps." She stood, water sliding off her as it would a duck, leaving her as dry as the travelers. "Shouldn't you be doing something? Protecting the kingdom… sharpening your sword…" She raised an eyebrow, smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. Leaning at the shore line she grabbed some stones, rolling them in her fingers as she watched the prince try and stand on the slippery, dewy grass.

"Oh I never sharpen my own sword." He grinned back, and for the first time, Arthur saw himself in the boy, who, he realized, looked a great deal more like Uther. "What's going on Iana?" He stepped closer, face sobering.

She threw a stone into the water absently, replying, "What do you mean? I'm sure your father would say something, if it was serious."

"Well that's the thing—he has said something. He's said a baron to the north is unhappy, may decide to try and challenge him. But that sort of thing, it happens. When I was in Scepia people were always talking about dividing up the kingdom again."

"In front of the king's son?"

He brushed some dirt off of his tunic. "They may not have known who I was in the moment, but it's hardly important. The point is my father called a meeting the other day, your fathers not speaking to anyone, and you…well—I asked to see you last night. You didn't come."

She snorted. "That's your evidence? A council of nobles, an antisocial warlock, and a girl actually preferring sleep to your company. Have you told anyone else about you suspicions? Because I think we may be overrun with bandits at any moment. In fact, the universe itself may be falling apart." She tossed at stone at him, which he dodged, not rising to the bait.

"You've never refused before." He spoke softly, reaching for her hand.

She jerked it away, flushing. Her blue dress shifted as a breeze picked up quickly. Arthur gasped, remembering the scene from where he'd witnessed it in the corridor. "This is different." He commented quietly.

"What?" Merlin spoke for the first time in a while. Arthur had never known the boy to be so silent.

"I saw this in the castle, near Morgana's rooms, not outside."

Iana was speaking, "- it's been three years! You left, life moved on."

The prince flushed himself now, with anger instead of embarrassment. "You mean _you_ moved on!"

"Well what did you expect to happen? That I'd come running into your arms?" Her eyes flashed and the wind started to whip faster.

The prince glanced around at the rattling trees and then tried for her hand again. "Iana." She smacked the appendage away, just like last time, and then allowed him to take it, kissing it softly. "I never wanted that. I never… you waited. I thought…"

"Wrong. Benedict asked me—to marry him." James dropped her hand like it was on fire. "I've said no." She looked up quickly. "I just…I wasn't waiting. For anyone."

The royal boy looked confused and hopeful. "You said no?" She nodded. "But you still didn't meet me last night."

"I'm twenty-two years old James. I should be married— I should-. We're not kids anymore—I can't just… I have responsibilities. To my father, my people. And so do you." She looked at him meaningfully. "I can't meet you in the lower town just because you—people would say-"

"Who cares?" James exploded. "Who cares what they would say? Everyone knows-"

Iana threw all the stones to the ground in her frustration. "Exactly! It's embarrassing!"

"A prince embarrasses you!"

"Don't be stupid." Iana replied sharply. "You know. You know what they say about me—what they said. 'Little trollop, doing magic tricks.' I'm no one's whore!" She flushed and looked away, face stony. "Don't make me out to be." Their invisible crowd was silent. Arthur turned away, imagining Gwen in the girls place. The castle gossiped mercilessly; how had his son been so careless?

"Fine." James' expression was cold. "You don't want to see me? You won't. I'm sure we'll manage alone. But I _know_ something is happening. It wasn't a council of nobles that was called. The Knights of the Round Table met yesterday—my mother told me. And your father may not be the most socially elegant of my father's advisors, but he doesn't usually ignore Lancelot or Lord Garren. And I know the two of you went somewhere yesterday, somewhere you didn't want to be followed. So yes… I know. Now why don't you tell me what's going on, so I can leave you alone. Since that's what you want so dearly." The bitterness was evident beneath his formal tone.

Iana ignored it and him for moment, turning her eyes to the lake. She moved closer to the lapping water while speaking. "It is a baron causing problems. But not just anyone—Cendred's son, Terais. He wants his lands, under his own banner, under his own control, separate from Albion completely."

"Impossible. That land sits in the middle of the kingdom."

"True. But hardly relevant to a madman. He's managed to stir up a few followers, radicals, slave traders, bandits. A few slighted lords. Overall, quite the little coup." She moved farther into the lake.

James frowned, watching her progress. As Iana moved, the water seemed to solidify in front of her. Arthur strained his neck to see; the water was turning to ice with every step, creating a frozen walkway for the sorceress. "But easily put down."

"Normally." She turned. "The druids have come to Camelot—they say that Terais has found himself a little magic. A sorcerer. My father's worried it may be… well… time will tell. The way at the moment is unclear and the old religion is silent on this matter. But either way—the king does nothing to silence the rebellion and soon the group will march on the city, if there are magic users in the party—it could become very bloody, very fast."

"You think this magic user is a druid?"

"Yes. And Camelot has never been kind to druids." She raised an eyebrow. "Obviously. It's why the avoid the city, even today, when my father promises them safe passage. The earth's memory is very long—and so is a persecuted druids. And I think anyone who ignores Emry's warning's is either very proud or very stupid."

James bristled. "My father is not stupid!"

The lake froze over completely as Iana snapped, "Then he should act! He's blinded by betrayal and too preoccupied to see to this!"

"Silence." James' voice was deadly now. "You be silent."

"Yes sire." Sarcasm layered the curtsy. The prince spun away, jogging to his horse then galloping away loudly, the opposite of his quiet entrance. In the middle of the lake Iana knelt on the ice, hand pressing against the sheet as if she was trying to touch something below the surface.

This time they landed in anteroom of the royal balcony. Merlin had been astounded to learn that balconies had their own rooms, when he first arrived, but had since come to understand the importance of such a place. When Uther was crowned king it was balcony he greeted his people from, the balcony he promised to keep them safe from when times were hard. Executions, celebrations, and state announcements were made from the small ledge but equally important was the room it sat off of, where the rulers gathered their thoughts and courage for the tasks they faced. But this time, Uther wasn't pacing its small diameter—Arthur was. The grown king was striding from one side to the other, face unhappy and worried. Iana and James were sulking in opposite corners, neither looking at the other while Gwen pointedly embroidered a piece of cloth. The door opened and older Merlin stepped in, his own expression betraying his aggravation. "Well?" The king shouted. Arthur was seemingly becoming unglued in his old age.

Merlin raised his eyebrows."You called for me, sire."

"Damn it Merlin! Stop it-" Plucking the silver crown from his head, Arthur threw it at the warlock in a strikingly similar move to one young Arthur had performed that very morning. Merlin watched absently as it slammed into the wall behind him, bending slightly where it struck the hard stone. "I called for you half an hour ago! Do you think the people of this kingdom have all day! Now get out there!" He pointed to the balcony doors.

The older sorcerer looked at the doors in confusion. "Why, exactly, would I do that?" the innocence on his face was so overwhelming it was clear to everyone that it was fake.

"Merlin-" The kings face was almost purple with rage.

"Enough!" The knight, Gwaine, burst in, his own face frustrated. "Everyone out! Now!" Gwen stood, pulling her son by the arm and looking pointedly to Iana. The witch glanced at her father and then slipped out herself, although she must not have gone far. The travelers were able to stay in the room with the fighting friends. Merlin headed for the door but was yanked beside Arthur by Gwaine's strong grip on his bicep. "The two of you are pissing me off! So much that I can't even get properly drunk. Last night I was in the tavern and I was so worried about the two of you, and your stupid, annoying inability to apologize—to anyone—that I barely finished a tankard." He looked between the two of them, hands on his hips like a scolding tutor. "Now, normally, your little lovers spats tickle me, since you're both such women. But now it's affecting me! So…together we are going to adults. And deal with this." The knight looked a little green at the word adult, but powered through. "Princess, you have been sulking about a certain… situation for a few weeks now." The king glared at him, a look of loathing that Merlin remembered well from his early days as Arthur's servant. "I don't blame you, personally, I'd have cut his balls off. But…well… we'll deal with that later." He raised his eyebrows. "_Together_. But now, I think we can all agree your minds been elsewhere, and you may not have seen to this situation with your normal, slightly late punctuality, allowing it to spiral out of control. Agreed?" Stiffly, older Arthur nodded. Older Merlin sniffed and looked pleased with himself as Gwaine turned to face the warlock. "Don't look so pleased with yourself runt. _You_ are the one I depend on to deal with Mr. Sensitive's little mood swings. You babysit and I make sure no one throws anything heavy at him."

"Hey!" King Arthur piped up, offended.

"Not now princess. Anyway, you dropped the ball buddy. So really—you have no one to blame but yourself for your little argument. Which by the way, was hurtful but not exactly your most damaging." Both men opened their mouths but Gwaine held up his hands, silencing them both. "Ah, ah. I know exactly what I'm talking about, because neither of you has any other friends and you both whine to me. Which is annoying, by the way. Back to the point—Merlin, get over it. You're frustrated, but the kid," he pulled a forty-five year old Arthur under his arm, "is going through something, and you should be supportive. So," he grabber Merlin in the same half hug, half headlock, "you should just get over yourselves, apologize, and deal with the small magic army marching on the city before we all end up in some god-forsaken cave again….Because the moisture is hell on my hair." He flipped the long locks, "and the women of this city need me looking my best. Therefore," he pushed the two of their faces together, "by the power invested in me as the keeper of you two idiots, I proclaim this fight over." He released them abruptly, letting them fall to the floor.

Sputtering, the two pushed themselves to their feet and glared at the knight, who was absently patting his hair into place and heading for the door. "My work here is done. If you need me, I'll be at the tavern. Let me know when the raging mob is upon us!" And then he was gone.

"Clotpole." Older Merlin spat it at the door, only half meaning it.

"Yea." Arthur added half-heartedly, turning to face his ex-servant turned sorcerer. "I… perhaps I should have listened, when you told me about the sorcerer with Terias."

Merlin rolled his eyes and half-smiled. "That was as good a non-apology as I've ever heard."

"It's more than you'll be getting again! Now you say sorry!" The king crossed his arms smugly.

"Alright, I'm sorry you didn't listen to me too." Older and younger Merlin grinned at the elder's impertinence.

Uther cleared his throat disapprovingly at his elder son's returning smile. "That doesn't count you moron. But I forgive you anyway, for not…"

His friend's smile shrunk. "… not being there when you need me?"

"I never _need _you Merlin! You're a servant. But I suppose a hunting trip wouldn't have been too much to ask. Lately you've been… distracted."

The older warlock nodded, face sorry as he stepped a little closer to his king. "I should have made time. Not for hunting of course, but chess or even, I don't know, practice or something. I am… sorry."

"Me as well." They both grinned sheepishly and Merlin reached out a hand, whispering something under his breath. The crown flew into it, and with another word and flashing of his eyes the dent was fixed. With both hands he offered it to Arthur, who stared at the decoration a moment before accepting the metal.

The giver gave a lopsided half smile that made him look as young as his invisible counterpart. "Now what did you need me for? Other than my support for your girly emotions?"

The king glared, still smiling. "Shut up. I have to talk to the city," he gestured to the balcony. "Give them direction, tell them what's happening, you know. They're all waiting."

Merlin glanced at the doors, startled. "Well, why don't you go?" He tried to shoo the king, making a rather humorous attempt at sheparding. "Go on."

"Merlin." The king reddened. "Every time I've…since I became… you always introduce me." He set his jaw stubbornly, the magic user began to grin. "Always. The people expect it Merlin. I can't just… why don't you just behave like an actual servant for once and do your job!"

They stood for a moment, one blushing and the other grinning. Finally Merlin gave a little bow and moved to the door. "Of course Arthur." He grabbed the handles and stood for a moment, silent. Arthur straightened the crown as Gwen, James, and Iana came back in. Gwen moved to him and squeezed his hand, sending him a loving smile. James and Iana remained by the door, finally meeting each other's eyes with regretful looks, the latter rolling two blue stones in her palm. Then Merlin swung both the doors open with alarming force, stepping out onto the balcony and yelling, in a booming voice, an introduction. "People of Camelot! I give you your true king! King Arthur!" Arthur stepped out, and as the crowd's shout's became a deafening roar, the four were pulled away again.


	9. Chapter 8 Part 1

Chapter 8 Part 1

This time, the travelers landed in a forest clearing, surrounded by a group of Camelot's knights dressed in full armor. James, Gwaine, and another young knight stood together, speaking quietly and watching the woods around them. A loud roar made the trees shudder; the group went silent, many shifting uneasily. A growling, gruff voice, barely distinguishable as human, seemingly answered the boom. This went on for a few minutes and then the earth shook and the air sounded of beating wings. Looking up, the four saw the shadow of a dragon soaring above. "What…"Arthur muttered, looking around at the nights, who seemed nervous but hardly ready for battle.

Older Merlin stepped from the trees, Iana trailing behind him. Both wore what the prince assumed were their own abbreviated versions of battle dress. Thin framed Merlin wore tough leathers the knights usually reserved for hunting, apparently too slight for chain mail. But, Arthur thought back to how the man had conjured lighting, there may have been other reasons. A sword that Arthur doubted Merlin knew how to handle hung on his belt and the older man carried a large carved stick, a green jewel jutting from its head. For the first time, Iana was wearing pants similar to Morgana's battle dress, although the girl looked uncomfortable in the slacks, pulling at the tunic that covered her top half. Like her father she wore a leather vest, softening her chest from blows. Slung across her back, a crossbow hung next to a quiver and a string pouch and necklace decorated her throat. The prince recognized the pouch as the one older Merlin had given her at the cliff and once again wondered at its prized contents. Merlin nodded at James, who acknowledge and then shouted. "We continue North! Mount up!" the clearing suddenly flurried with activity as the short term camp was briken down. Iana slung the crossbow onto a horse and then approached James while he was distracted by his own mount. She snagged his tunic and he turned, but seeing her, his gaze hardened and he went back to work. "What is it? I'm busy."

She dropped the cloth, offended. "I just thought you should know I won't be coming."

"Oh I think you are." He replied gruffly, still checking his saddle with extreme care.

Iana grabbed his hand, distracting him and causing his body to freeze up. After glancing around at the busy knights, she held it for a minute. "Kilighara says a small group has broken off to the west, probably a scouting contingent. I need to go see what they're up to."

"Not alone." He looked at their joined hands. "I'll send some men."

They dropped hands as the horse was jostled and moment broken. "No. I'll move quicker than any of your men. Besides," she grinned, "I can take care of myself."

"That's debatable." He reached out and quickly touched her cheek, jerking back as a knight passed by. He huffed, frustrated, then grabbed her hand. "Damn it, come on." He jerked her back into the woods, where they were hidden by the shadows. Uther, Gaius, Arthur, and Merlin hurried after them. When their eyes adjusted to the lack of campfire and they managed to find the two, they averted their eyes. James had pushed the sorceress against a tree, roughly pinning her to the back with his pands. She didn't seem to mind, considering her hands were tangled in his hair, her grip pressing their lips together. Gasping they pulled apart. The four just heard James mutter, "I knew it. I knew you-"

"Oh shut up." Iana kissed him again quickly before pulling away, straightening her hair and clothing. Smiling, James did the same before moving forward to help her untangle her pouch from her necklace and hair. "So now can I go?" she grinned.

James frowned, not amused, as he settled the chain against her skin. "Are you really asking?"

"No."

"Then I suppose you can. But not alone." He held up a hand at her glare. "I wouldn't let anyone travel alone, not in wartime. This has nothing to do with you personally, although, I would prefer you safe, back at Camelot."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm hardly helpless James. I can handle a few scouts."

"I know—which is why I'm letting you go with Sir Derrick. He's my fastest horseman, he won't slow you down, but you won't be alone." He smiled. "And then you can go back to Camelot and wait for this all to be over." She opened her mouth to protest but he kissed her again. "And while you're waiting, you can find a blue dress."

"And why would I do that?" She smiled at him, pushing her hair back from her face and tying a flowered cloth around the base to keep it back.

The prince grinned, reaching to pull the small ream of fabric from her hair, ruining her work. "Because you stubborn woman, you look beautiful in blue, and when I propose, I want you looking your best. A prince can't marry an ugly commoner, so you're going to have to put some effort into it." He tucked the cloth into the chainmail at his wrist.

She stood, shocked, as he turned back to the clearing, then, as quickly as he had worded his intentions, threw herself at his form. He hear her coming and turned to catch her, the two breathing heavily as they stood and stared, memorizing each other's features for a moment. "Are you sure?" The question hung between them, Iana's voice hopeful and wary. "You don't have to do this because you feel guilty."

He put her down and looked her in the eye. "You were right to say no before. I was…" he looked toward the clearing. "I asked because my father caught us, because he expected me to. I didn't know I loved you then, didn't know enough about myself to even understand my feelings. When you said no I was angry—that's why I left."

She palmed his cheek with a small hand. "I know." He caught her hand and brought it to his heart.

"I'm not that boy anymore. Every minute I was gone I missed you. I was a fool for leaving, for thinking I had to prove something." He looked down. "But I'm glad I did, because I proved something to myself—I grew up, Iana. And I'm sorry, for every second I ever made you think you were less than me. Less than perfect for me."

Tears pooled in Iana's eyes, echoed by Merlin and Gaius. Arthur turned away, moved, while Uther simply stared, face a mask, eyes lit with some decision the others couldn't decipher. She kissed him once more, whispering, "I love you too—I always have." She stepped back, wiping at her eyes. "I have something for you. She grabbed the pouch and tipped out the contents. Two blue stones rolled in her hand before settling in her palm. "From Avalon." She reverently selected one and offered it to brown haired boy. "It's a second chance. A power stone—inside the core is enough magic to enhance any spell or, in some cases, restart a heart. If you ever need it, just," she mimicked bringing the stone to her mouth, "bite down as quickly as you can. It'll release the power. But it has to be done of your own will—you can't force the gift on another. Put it somewhere safe." She cautioned, putting her own back into the pouch and tying the opening closed. "Just in case."

He pulled off his boot and slipped the stone into the bottom. "Just in case." They stood for a moment, grinning before a voice called out for the prince. "Coming!" he reached for her hand and the two left, their invisible interlopers following. They dropped hands before emerging and jogged to their horses, hoisting themselves up, James calling out, "Derrick! Go with Lady Iana! She has a job to do. The rest of you, move out! Gwaine lead the party, I'll take the rear." At his command, the men began to gallop away; the older knight leading them, with one last look at Iana, James reared his animal and then followed, not looking back.

Merlin stood next to his daughter's mount, face knowing. "He'll be alright."

"I know." She touched the pouch. "He always is." She looked down at her father. "You be careful too—I'm not ready to do this on my own yet."

The warlock smiled and patted her knee, a haunted look on his face. "Oh I wouldn't worry. I'll be around for a good long while. But be cautious Iana—I have a bad feeling. Something's not right—I just can't seem to remember what it is."

A knight approached the two, his youthful face showing his eagerness to get on the way. "I will. I love you."

"I love you too Iana. Remember, I'm proud of you—I'll see you back at Camelot in two days time." He raised his hands, staff between them, "I have something to see to." He brought the staff to the ground and with a blast of light, was gone. With a nod to her companion, Iana left as well, the knight trailing after her as they rode toward the west, racing the rising sun.

The four onlookers were pulled with her before the scene faded to black. When they opened their eyes, they were still in the forest, but now it was blackened with char marks and flames licked at the trees. Uther and Arthur tried to pull their swords only to realize the weapons were useless against the memories. A scream echoed and they spun, cringing as they saw Iana thrown against a tree, her body contorting as a pain spell cut through her defenses. Merlin stepped forward, wanting to help his future child, but realized he was as useless as the weapons the knights wore. An aged sorcerer in druid robes dropped his hand and the girl fell silent, panting as she tried to swallow the pain. Around the two, a half dozen bodies lay still, most dead, some quickly on their way. Sir Derrick, his youthful face frozen in surprise, lay near Iana, his green eyes open and empty. A large hole was in his chest, the result of a fireball thrown by the sorcerer. Her sleeve had torn off, exposing the druid symbol on her shoulder as she raised her arm and sent her own spell lashing at the attacker. The druid flew back as the air seemed to punch at him, angry boils erupting on his face at the same time. She raised herself up to her hands and knees, blood dripping from her nose and hairline. But before she could get her footing the druid was back, this time aiming a physical kick at her midsection, knocking her to her back. "Foolish child! You think you do this world a favor, fighting with the Pendragons!" He raised his hand hoisting her into the air. "You betray your own kind! They care nothing for the pain they cause-"

She jerked, dropping to the ground and scooped up earth, tossing it into the air, creating a sandstorm around the figure and limping toward the forest cover. "You're wrong! The killing has stopped Erat! All you do is prove Uther right by this—Arthur is a good king!" The sorcerer slashed at the sand, causing it to fall to the ground, once again harmless. "No druid has been killed since he took the throne. Magic is welcome in Camelot!" The two sent spells at the same time, causing the magic to clash between their forms, exploding in a flash that threw them both back.

"For now! But he'll turn on you! Just like his father before him—once he can no longer control it he'll wipe it out! Wipe all of us out!" He threw a ribbon of fire at Iana, burning her hair and clothes, she rolled to the earth, frantically stifling them as she tried to cast at the same time. "Just like Uther! My wife! My child! Gone and it'll happen again and again! Camelot must be destroyed—for all of us!"

"No!" Iana desperately threw out an arm, but even the gesture was weak and Erat easily deflected the weak lightning.

"Yes." He approached the girl slowly, eyes flashing with magic and madness. Iana was trying to crawl away, tears streaming down her face as she realized her magic was drained.

Merlin clenched his fists as Arthur shouted. "No! Why doesn't she fight back?"

Gaius answered for his apprentice, his hand gripping the boys shoulder tightly. "She's overused the gift. Her powers are drained—she needs rest."

The druid had reached her, kicking her once more, stopping her slow, useless progress. "I am sorry. It goes against the old religion, to kill one of our own kind, but if you refuse to listen-"

"Please," Iana struggled to get to her feet, "don't do this. Your family-"

"Is dead! Because of Camelot!"

"No! Because of a man." She managed to pull herself up using a tree trunk, leaning against it to stay upright. "Because of a man who lost his wife too. Don't, please." Gasping with the effort of speaking and standing she made one last plea. "I have a family—a man that I love." Uther stepped forward and his three companions looked at him, surprised even through their terror. Since Gaius had given his ultimatum the man had been still, unhappy and stubborn as he sulked about the world his son had created. But now… now the king acted, moving to the girl pleading for her life, his face full of rage. Merlin tried to block him, but both Arthur and Gaius caught him, holding him back.

But Uther blew by the girl and stopped in front of the druid, even as the man brought his arm back, ready to throw the fireball that had grown in his fist. The king stared into the killers eyes and suddenly his own anger drained from his face, leaving only resolve. "Don't. Do not kill her." For Gaius and Arthur it was like then world had stopped spinning, just like Iana had joked. Because Arthur, had grown up knowing his father could never change, would never change for anyone, even his son. And Gaius, who had lived through his rage and wrath, watched friends die and child drowned, had never imagined the man would try to save a sorceress. And as if the memory could change and was bending to his will the old druid clutched at his throat and then fell, choking, to the floor. Iana watched with horrified eyes as he seemed to breathe fire and then exploding into a ball of fire. Once again the flames singed her face and Arthur realized she was looking more and more like the gruesome ghost she first appeared as.

"Well, that takes care of that." The sinister words rolled off of Morgana's tongue as she stepped from the tree line next to Iana. The girl tried to jump away but fell, her bleeding thigh refusing to take her weight. "Now what to do with you?" Uther's grown ward turned her cold indigo eyes to the collapsed victim, facing her as an ugly smile stretched her lips.

TBC…

AN: Duh Duh Dun! Betcha hate me now huh? Don't worry Chapter 8 Part 2 will be up soon!


	10. Chapter 8 Part 2

I disclaim! Please Review—they're the best part of my day! Sorry this took so long!

Chapter 8 Part 1

Morgana circled the helpless girl for a moment, and as she did so, even Uther could see that this was not the girl he had raised. The king could feel the others eyes upon him, questioning his sudden decision to try and help the girl, but he honestly didn't care. Let them wonder. Uther Pendragon explained himself to very few people, and servants and his son were not among them. Secretly he wasn't sure himself why he had wanted to save the wretched creature; she who would ruin his family line with her magical blood…only that in the moment, in this memory that no one would see again, he had needed to. So he had stepped forward, pointlessly. Perhaps his son was right and the strain of Morgause's spell had… done something to his mind.

He knew a number of things. As he watched a once sweet girl prepare to torture a child, he knew that magic corrupted. He knew that Gaius, despite his words earlier, was not exactly his friend, but the closest that Uther would ever come to in this life. He knew that Arthur thought him heartless, especially after seeing this little production. And he knew that the boy, Merlin, had to be put to death so long as he was aware of the magic inside of him. These things were reality.

But he was finding that it was hard to hang onto that reality while he was in this place, this memory. And so he stepped back, out of the way of the dream figures and allowed them to play out. Because the sooner they could get out of here, the sooner he could make sense of the world again. Iana had backed herself up against a tree, Morgana circling the girl and oak, watching with measuring eyes. Iana reached slowly for her pouch while Morgana was behind her but quickly the witch threw out a hand and the bag flew into it, ripping from the girls neck. His ward rolled her eyes as she looked down at her victim. "Save your gift girl. _I_ have no intention of killing you. Why would I have gone through the trouble of saving you?" She let the bag hang off her fingers mockingly. "Why would I have given these to your father?" The four stared as they flashed back to the memory in Gaius' tower; Morgana placing the small stones on the book.

"It was you? _You _went to Avalon?" While she asked, Morgana held out a hand and whispered under her breath. Silver tendrils escaped her fingertips, wrapping aroung Iana's injured leg. The magic pulsed for a moment and then faded away, the gash that had opened on the thigh closing before their eyes.

The dark haired woman threw the bag to Iana. "Many times," her voice took on a quality that Uther had never heard, as if she was seeing something he couldn't imagine. "The land of kings is only closed to those who are not yet destined for it." She cocked her head, giving the girl a knowing glance. "Your father, for instance, cannot yet cross the final shore. Not until the Once and Future King has come to Albion's coast for the last time." She trailed off, her raised eyebrow silently implying knowledge.

The girl stood, testing her balance on her once injured leg, blatantly ignoring the question Morgana was daring her to ask. "Why help me? You could have just let me die—gain your revenge."

Uther's ward snapped. "It's not you I want!" Her eyes flashed gold and a nearby tree cracked down the middle, toppling by the force of Morgana's rage. "Besides, I owe Merlin a debt of the Old Religion—one I've paid by helping you." She looked out at the tree, now decaying unnaturally fast as it lay on the forest floor, slowly catching fire along with the rest of the area. "Destruction is only as useful as its design. That sorcerer," she snarled, "was fire for no reason. A raging inferno is no good to anyone." She threw out her arms and the sky filled with clouds, the sound of rain slowly moving toward them. Her eyes gleamed with some dark memory. "But a controlled blaze…" She looked around at the burned land, smoldering as the rain finally reached them. "Sometimes destroying something is the only way to purify it—to free it."

"Like you freed magic?" Iana seemed more confident now, still a mess of blood and soot but able to stand on her own.

Morgana's eyes snapped to her, the contemplative, pensive look on her face morphing into another ugly sneer. "I see _daddy's _been telling tales. Well don't think you're so smart—you don't know me. I did free magic and myself by _my_ actions." She turned away again, almost speaking to herself as she fingered her own blue bead, this time around her neck instead of her forehead. "Merlin thinks he's so smart—thinks he's the reason this world exists. But it was me!" She whirled in place, disappearing and then appearing right behind Iana, grabbing her hair and yanking it back so she could yell into the girls ear. "I'm the one who did what was needed! Me! Not the great Emrys!" She cackled and shoved the girl. Watching her, Arthur suddenly understood Iana's fear. In that moment, he feared her too. The prince glanced at Merlin and Gaius, who were watching the scene not with Uther's shock but with displeased concern. "I killed the king!" He snapped his gaze back to the girl who had always been like his sister. She truly looked mad now, laughing as the rain showered the pair. "I killed that murderer!"

Iana watched her from a distance, clutching her recovered pouch tightly. "You killed your own father." Uther's head snapped up and he looked intently at his daughter, looking for something—not finding it as she responded cruelly.

"He deserved it!" She scowled, the ugly expression marring her lovely face. "Uther Pendragon deserved to die—and I enjoyed watching the life bleed out of him as he did!" She stepped back, suddenly sane and calm, as if she was talking about the weather. "I deserved _that_ privilege. To watch him suffer… just as he forced me to watch before... watch as every innocent suffered."

"And now you want Albion to fall? Your people to be destroyed?"

Morgana shook her head. "Albion… Albion and its king are not _my_ concern. I've had my revenge, my vengeance." She looked at Iana, their blue eyes locking. "I will not save my brother's kingdom. But neither will I watch it be bastardized by the undeserving. Even now, young Cenred's forces are attacking Camelot." She looked into the distant, eyes seeing the unknown. "The little prince has gone to fight, but he's lost his way in the fog of Cenred's sorcerer's. The party attacks a city without its knights. My nephew will not make it in time-" she broke off and looked at Iana, face blank. "-and Arthur will die before he arrives…unless you arrive first." She pointed west. "Run little witch. Go now." Iana was already moving, darting through the forest, branches whipping at her face as she sprinted away from the sorceress. The four could feel themselves being tugged away as well but Arthur keep his feet, fighting the pull, wanting to see this strange version of his childhood companion a little longer. "Run, run," her face broke into a wicked smile as the girl disappeared from view, "for you will not do so again." A cold feeling rushed over the prince as he watched a younger man step out of the forest behind her.

His pale grey eyes took in the scene. "Why are you helping her save the king?" No emotion crossed the boys face, his blank expression more frightening than Morgana's madness. "When you promised to help me kill him?"

She stroked his black hair as if he was a child. "Patience, Mordred… patience. She'll die in the attempt—I have seen it. With the girl dead, _Merlin_ will lose focus. And without Merlin… Arthur will be unprotected," her smile grew, "Killing him will be so much simpler with the warlock out of the way." A stabbing of betrayal pierced Arthur's heart. His knees lost their battle with his emotions and unlocked; as he fell to the ground he was whipped away, Merlin and his father beside him. The world grew dark as they were dragged behind Iana and away from Morgana, her dark dress and hair soaked by the magical storm, face alight as she planned his death.


	11. Chapter 9

AN: I am so sorry! wouldn't let me log in! It was terrible! But I persevered! And here is chapter 9, late but present and accounted for, despite me having finals and drill…oh… and I disclaim everything.

Chapter 9

Arthur was dying. Not _him_ him, but his older self. They'd blurred back to awareness inside Camelot, all but Gaius horizontal from their cling to the last memory. Camelot was aflame, stone falling, bodies and the reek of death filling the corridors. The similarity to Morgause's attack didn't escape the prince, except that this time it seemed there would be no sudden turn of luck. The king was lying on a makeshift table, a young man in physician's robes fretting over him, the door burst open and the knights guarding the room all drew their swords, murder in their eyes. But a moment later Iana rushed in. The sorceress looked even more terrible than she had just moments ago, apparently having fought through the woods and warriors to arrive.

"Oh gods." Iana dropped to her knees, uncovering the gaping wound in his chest. It had been an arrow. Arthur could see that clearly from the ragged edges where the shaft had been yanked out. "What happened?" She snapped at the physician; the man was so startled he jumped back, panicked expression freezing on his face.

A huge knight with kind features stepped forward, face streaked with tears and soot. "We rode out to meet them with what men we had. It was in the lower town, I don't…he was behind me… an archer made a lucky shot." He looked at the fallen king. "He was behind me."

"Why was he even there?" He scalding tone made the knight flinch. The implication clear from her words; a kings place was not on the front lines. "Where's Lancelot?"

"I haven't been able to find him since the retreat. He must still be in the lower town somewhere." Iana frowned and continued to examine the wound. Arthur didn't react to her ministrations; the knight looked at his king with care then asked softly. "Where's Merlin?"

"Elsewhere." Iana's voice was chocked with emotion. "Now shut up and let me concentrate." She stopped her examination suddenly, hand over his heart. "Damn it. Damn!" She put an ear to his chest. "Come on!" Raising a fist, she brought it down hard over his heart. The watchers winced sympathetically at the hard blow. She lowered her head again, "This isn't…" Scrambling at her neck she retrieved the blue stone from its pouch, shoving it into the man's mouth. "Bite down damnit!" Nothing happened, the king too far gone to respond. "Percival—hit him!"

The knight looked at her, sickened and skeptically, but caved under her glare. A moment later his meaty fist came down and Arthur's eyes shot open. The king automatically let out a cry then ground his teeth against the pain. A burst of energy threw Iana and Percival back as the stone broke under his bite. In moments the grey tint of death left the older man's features and wound suddenly looked less gaping and terrible, the skin around it becoming less red and more pink although it didn't close completely. From her position on the floor Iana breathed a sigh of relief, then crawled toward him, even as one of the windows above them exploded as a rock shattered the glass. Laying her hands over the injury she muttered under her breath, "heal what has been hurt, change the fates design," she went on, alternating between standard English and Latin and with every line the flesh healed until it was as if nothing had happened. When she finished Iana sank to the floor, having used up what little energy and magic she'd regained since the woods. Young Merlin stepped forward, wanting to help her, but helpless to do so but he needn't have worried.

As she dropped, older Arthur sat up, face shocked and worried. "Percival." He gestured to the girl. Bending without question the knight scooped her up and placed her on a stretcher of her won. "Get me a status report—now. I'll look after her." The king picked up his circlet crown that had been lying on the floor next to him and placed it on his now empty bed then turned to Iana. The physician had moved closer but Arthur shooed him away with a glare and a nod to the others injured. "Come on now Iana. Wake up." With more tenderness than Merlin had ever seen from his friend, he brushed the damp and burnt hair from her forehead, rubbing her arm gently. "Now is not the time for sleeping," he forced a smile, "not with your useless father away." She didn't move and he turned back to the crown, frowning. He spotted a guard. "You! Is Merlin's tower still standing?"

The man bowed slightly, looking with apprehension at the still girl. "Yes sire."

"Go there now. Run. Find a book—it has a dragon seal on the cover, check the main table. Bring it and mortius flowers back here, immediately! You know what the flower looks like?"

"I do your majesty." With one more glance at Iana the guard raced from the room without waiting to be dismissed. But Arthur didn't seem to mind, absently putting on the crown and rubbing his now whole chest. He looked at the crumbling ceiling, "Come on Merlin, I need you here." He glanced at Iana, "we need you here." The scene blurred as he put his head in his hands and then refocused. Time seemed to have passed, because Gwaine and Percival were in the room now, watching as the king crushed a flower in a cup, adding wine and water to the mixture. The book, which Gaius and Merlin recognized a magical grimoire, was open to a healing spell, and as Arthur crushed the magical plant he read over the words, apparently familiar with the forbidden text. The room was no longer rocked by projectiles and the four travelers could only assume that the knights were winning the siege.

The door slammed open and James rushed in, covered in the gore of battle. "What happened?"

"We don't know." Gwaine answered for the focusing king. "Are the invaders under control?"

"My men are pushing them back now. They'll be cornered near the east woods. The druids are waiting for them there—their spells will keep them busy until we re-group." He reached out and gently stroked his lovers unresponsive face. "What do you mean you don't know?"

Percival pulled the boy back. "She came in like this. I thought she was half dead when I saw her and then… with the magic…" The knight held fast as the prince tried to reach out again. "Let your father help."

Breaking free the boy pushed against his captors. "Where's Merlin!" his face was awash with rage.

A flash of light blinded everyone for a moment, and then as they blinked, the older warlock appeared, dropping his staff as he rushed to his daughter. "Here. I'm here." The man looked the worse for wear, his own leg mangled at the knee and half of his cloak torn away, the other covered in blood.

James stepped in front of him, face red, wanting a fight. "Where were you? She's—she needed you!" He punched the tall man in the face and Merlin didn't even try to stop the blow, even as Gwaine and Percival grabbed for him.

"James!" Arthur's voice was hard. "Enough!" He held out a hand. "Enough son. Merlin I need your help."

Brushing past the angry prince, Merlin dropped next to Arthur with no regard to the agony it must have caused his leg, his face grave. "We need to do it together. You understand?" Merlin glanced over the spell fleetingly then locked eyes with his blond friend. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

The king stilled for a moment, looking over the book and then Iana. "She saved me… _you _save me. It's time I repay the favor." He smiled slightly. "Together." And then, he held up the cup, and Merlin wound his own hands around the kings and they chanted softly, both their eyes flaring gold, the medicine inside it flashing with power. Uther turned away at the display but his son, both of them, leaned forward anxiously as Merlin tipped the mixture into his daughters lips.

They waited, the visible and invisible, for several long moments. Then Iana's eyes fluttered open, blue eyes sparkling with power and life.

Then the door burst open, and the enemy poured in.

AN: First, I apologize for ending a chapter and sentence in a preposition. As Col. Jack O'Neill would say, "You bastard!" Second, I apologize for ending this chapter with another cliffhanger.

Questions that I promise will be answered: 1. Where the hell Lancelot keeps disappearing to and why I'm hate-ing on him 2. Who Merlin was fighting 3. How Iana will end up kicking it and 4. What's going to happen to Merlin once they get back.

Anyone care to guess my evil scheme?


	12. Chapter 10

AN: Okay so… you're all mad. I get it—it been almost a month. But I have a good reason this time! Finals. I had some of my own and some to grade. Which sucked. And then to top it all off… I tore my MCL. The day after finals—I kid you not. That's what you get for running in the rain I suppose, but in my defense I think they are purposefully making the road paint slippier! And apparently you aren't supposed to have laptops in hospitals when you're recovering from surgery. Or attempt to write fanfiction when on painkillers. Especially good painkillers. Although the results were amusing I figured you'd want an actual end to this story so I waited a little while.

But in return for your patience… three chapters! And a conclusion! Again, I'm very sorry for the delay.

I disclaim.

Chapter 10

"Protect the king!" James and the knights leaped forward, hacking at the enemy.

Arthur stood, looking for a sword, intending to help his soldiers, but Merlin's arm snaked up, holding him still. The warlock was still kneeling, fingers threading slowly through Iana's hair; lying on the floor, taking deep breaths, Merlin's daughter was in no condition to move anywhere. "No. No more of this." Eyes burning with anger and power, he stood, pushing Arthur behind him.

"Merlin…" the king spoke quietly, but said nothing more to his friend, instead yelling to the knights. "To me! Retreat to me!" With one final shove the men pushed back the invaders then darted for the small group at the back of the room. Merlin raised his arms as the last man slid behind him, yelling in the fierce, guttural language of magic. The younger Arthur, looking on, was suddenly afraid of the man. He looked at his own friend, standing beside him, wide eyes watching the scene. Did this version have the same ability—the same ability to suddenly…

…the enemy was gone. He'd always thought of the younger man as weak, needing help, protection—the kid certainly fell down enough. But it was clear this man, this sorcerer his friend would grow to become, didn't need help.

Magic, hot and furious and everywhere, struck down the enemy leaving Camelot's men unscathed. A silence fell and King Arthur moved to stand next to Merlin now, instead of slightly beside him. For a moment everyone in the room saw a slight glow emitting from the men, a power radiating from both of them. The two surveyed the damage together. Iana, awake now, moaned, "Can I stand now?"

"No!" Merlin and James said together.

A slow, mocking applause began in the quiet. A figure shimmered into view—Morgause. The four travelers looked on in disbelief.

"You!" Arthur's hard voice spoke of the displeasure and outrage of the room.

"You!" She echoed in a high, fake voice. "Aren't we witty in our old age."

Merlin's hand stayed his king's sword. "Not exactly Arthur. This isn't Morgause—not really."

The creature, no one in the room could call it anything else, smirked. "Sp you figured it out then warlock. Good—it'll make killing you so much simpler."

But the servant did not rise to the bait, instead continuing his explanation. "It's a je'nai. What the northerners call a genie. It grants the wishes of damaged souls, manipulates their desires, and bends them to its own will, feeding off the power and destruction they create. The closer we moved to Cenred's kingdom the better I could sense its foul magic."

It cocked its head at an unnatural angle. "Ah yes, dreams are _potent_ things aren't they." It breathed deeply, features morphing as it spoke. The blond hair grew wild, almost alive and the features, squarer, rougher. The ends of the fake Morgause's teeth became pointed and fingernails grew into claws. "Young Cenred's pathetic desire to avenge his father, regain his kingdom, and then, of course… the druid sorcerer; his vow of revenge, the desire to destroy the family of those who destroyed his—that was an especially good meal. Full of pain." It chuckled. "A shame your little sorceress killed him—but then, you distracted me Emry's, with your little magic show."

"As I recall, my show was doing you some damage."

The genie looked thoughtful. "Perhaps. Which is why, as one magical being to another, I offer you a deal. Your help, for one," it raised a claw, "granted desire." Smiling now, it continued. "One limitless possibility. Immortality for your daughter perhaps? Or your love back—the lady of the lake, risen once more? Just stand aside—give me Camelot and I'll give you… anything." The voice was almost hypnotic but Merlin didn't waiver.

"Shades of truth." The warlock spat, "turned to fit your own desires." Merlin threw up his hands, a fiery wall erupting between good and evil. "Enough of this." The flames separated the being from the rest of them and with a shout from Merlin then enveloped it. But it wasn't burning. The travelers could see the thing, still half beast half woman, its mask melting way, blond hair singeing—but it didn't scream, merely laughed. "Go! I'll deal with this alone!"

Iana put up a pitiful fight to stay with her father, but the sorceress still wasn't up to full strength and James easily threw her over his shoulder, rushing with the rest of the knights from the room. Only Arthur hesitated, unsure if he would follow Merlin's command. Uther watched his grown son, so similar and yet so different from the boy that stood beside him; so different from Uther himself. A king, he knew, should take commands from no one. Especially servant boys, magic or no. "Merlin!" The crown on his sons head glimmered in the flames reflection as he called to his…friend.

The warlock turned from his enemy and locked eyes with Arthur. "Do you trust me?" They stared, silent for a moment and then his son nodded, turning to follow his men. "Go!" And then, as Iana travelled father away, they too were pulled from the room, draw from the battle of magic, even as the je'nai burst from the elemental cage.

The hallway was in chaos.

More soldiers, dressed in Cenred's blue colors, were fighting, almost in a daze, seemingly unable to stop themselves. Others seemed as if they never wanted to stop, grinning madly as their blood stained swords hacked at Camelot's forces. Older Arthur was surrounded by men, directing the fighting forces with an ease that his younger self liked to think came naturally but always seemed awkward in the moment.

There was no awkwardness in this future and for a moment, even Uther was awed by his sons command.

Then the moment was destroyed as a ball of fire erupted from down the hall. Half of Cenred's forces were thrown to the ground by the attack and the large knight, Percival, brushed embers from his large arms. A cloaked figure rushed forward to meet Camelot's protectors, throwing off his hood as he approached, dodging those enemies still on their feet. "Let him through!" Iana had managed to stand on her own, although she was carefully shielded behind Gwaine and James. The sorceress pushed forward as the druid approached, shooting a look at the king as she did so.

"Do as she says!" Arthur bellowed, then yelled for the men to keep fighting—an easier task now that numbers were even. He held back though, allowing Gwaine to take his place as he joined Iana.

"Your majesty, my lady." The priest bowed to Arthur, then Iana, but his eyes were fixed on Merlin's daughter. Unconcerned about the fighting now, the four onlookers moved in closer. "My clan has taken care of most of the invaders that remained outside the inner castle, healers are moving through the lower town as we speak." He nodded to Iana, "and the wyverns your father called are taking care of the rest of them."

The king clasped the man's arm. "Thank you Tawins."

"There's more sire. One of the guards on the east gate, the breached entrance, he survived—and he says it was a knight who let in the mass. A knight of Camelot." Arthur and Iana shared a troubled look.

She spat out a curse and then spoke quickly to the blonde leader. "I can discover the traitor—but I need a seers bowl."

"Can it not wait?" Arthur looked out at the fighters—the red far outnumbered the blue now. "This traitor-"

"-Will surely try again while the city reels. Someone knew the moment James' men rode out. The city is vulnerable now."

Rubbing his beard he called to his son. "James, Edwin!" His son and a young knight spun to face them. "With Iana!" He reached under his tunic and produced a key ring. Quickly ripping one off he press it into her hand. "You know the way- Go!" Iana spun on her heel, disappeared down the corridor, her protectors fixed behind her.

The travelers raced behind them, now out of curiosity rather than sheer necessity. Without realizing it they raced to Morgana's room, where Iana shoved the old key into the lock hand, almost breaking the fragile thing off in the hole. The door squealed with misuse as they three pushed inside.

It was like a nightmare. The room had obviously been destroyed, ransacked in the past by someone's hands. The bed was a mess, slashed bed covers, rotting feathers everywhere, the drapes in pieces, burnt in places by an unknown flame. Dust and cobwebs covered every surface, even the floor. James wouldn't move past the doorway, lip curled up in disgust and some sort of hatred, as if he felt he might be infected by moving inside. The boy, Edwin, was trying to look everywhere at once and the four understood this was room of ghosts and betrayals unspoken. Arthur, or perhaps Uther, had simply closed the door, locked it tight, closing up the room and the memories.

But Iana simply rushed forward, as if she had often visited this graveyard, snatching a bone carved box from a decaying table. She threw open the lid and removed a bowl. Despite the abuse the room had suffered, the thing was shining in the faint light from the windows, its silver body untarnished. It was a shallow thing, oddly wide, with barely any height, its sides curving out rather than in—it looked, Arthur decided, like a pan. "A scrying bowl." Young Merlin murmured beside him and the prince instantly understood that this was a thing of magic, of evil.

The sorceress sat it down on the windowsill, and then snatched a waterskin from the young knight's belt, pouring until the bowl overflowed then tossing the drink back. A moment later and the water was still.

Iana dropped to her knees, and for a moment the four thought exhaustion had taken her again. But instead she leaned forward, not touching the sill or the bowl, but leveling her eyes with the top of the liquid. Uther moved toward her, also looking into the water but seeing nothing. Apparently Iana did though, for after a moment she fell back, gasping in pain or shock. At the same moment, the door, which James had carefully shut behind him, was kicked in. The prince was thrown by the force, smacking his head on the stone wall with a crack. Edwin drew his sword, but lowered it on seeing the familiar face of Lancelot. "Sir, you startled us."

He moved to sheath the blade and move toward James but Iana caught his sleeve, on her knees again. "No." She whispered. "It's him." Edwin, who hadn't been listening to the druid, looked at her confused, but raised the weapon again, trusting the woman's judgment despite his confusion.

Lancelot's feature's, the travelers realized, were masked in the same blank, will-less expression of the invaders. Iana struggled to her feet. "Lancelot?" She ventured, raising a hand, palm up, in a gesture of peace. "You need to wake up. You're dreaming—but it's real Lancelot, not a fantasy, don't do this." The older knight, his hair streaked grey in places, shook his head and for a moment confusion showed on his face. Then the other look, the one of un-abating bloodlust swept over. He slashed out with his own sword, cutting a ragged tear in the girl's palm. She pulled it back with a cry and that cry seemed to roust James, who jumped from behind the door, tackling Lancelot to the floor. "He doesn't know what he's doing! James—he thinks it a dream!"

"And that makes it better!" The prince growled as he wrestled with his onetime trainer. Arthur let out a yell of encouragement for his son, unable to help himself. Despite the gravity of the situation they were watching he shared a bashful look with Merlin, who was grinning at his enthusiasm. His son gained the upper hand and locking his legs around the older man's body used both hands to bash his head against the floor.

The knight's eyes dropped shut but James lifted the skull again, ready to repeat the action. "No. He's out James. Stop it." Iana was suddenly beside the two, resting her uninjured hand on her lover's shoulder. "Stop it."

"He did this." The young man was breathing heavily through his nose, fingers still tangled in Lancelot's dark hair.

"He did this for _her_." The woman spoke the words softly then glanced at Edwin, cocked her head to the hallway. The young knight, to his credit, didn't question her, but simply bowed and moved outside.

James let go of the hair as if it burned him and shot to his feet, anger evident in his gaze. "_She_ is my_ mother_!" He kicked the body. "He has no right to do anything for her!"

"I do not think," Iana said gently, "that your mother would agree. Or," she continued softly, "that you have any say in the matter."

"Shut up!" It was the first truly angry words the four had ever heard James direct to Iana, Merlin stepped forward, slightly worried for her safety. "My father-"

She stepped toward him, her own eyes flashing. "-turns a blind eye. It is _his_ choice James. But this… this was not Lancelot's choice. The je'nai clouded his mind with dreams of your mother… it was simply a fantasy."

"A fantasy where my father died!"

"And he could love your mother openly." Her expression softened. "But it was a dream for him. Nothing more. Lancelot would never betray your father—never wish him dead."

"He betrays him every time they see each other." Now the prince deflated, looking at the fallen knight with the eyes of a hurt child, rather than an infuriated equal.

She stepped closer, now chest to chest, and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "So does your mother, but I don't see you trying to bash her head open. Let it be." Tipping her head up, she kissed the side of his mouth. "It was, literally, unconscious treachery. Let your father deal with it."

He nodded and opened his mouth, about to speak, when Edwin rushed in from the hallway, slamming what remained of the door shut behind him. "We need to go! Cenred's men—at least fifteen of them, coming this way!"

James grabbed his sword. "Did they see you?"

"Oh," the pounding of armor clanged down the hall toward them, "they saw me alright!" Iana rushed for Lancelot's fallen sword but dropped it, hissing as her palm stung.

The prince look at her, concerned then at the window, his face lit up. "We're on the top level!" He grabbed his two companions and pushed them toward the roof. He pawed the bowl to the floor, where it fell with a clash that sounded unnaturally loud.

Everything was louder than it should be, Gaius realized. "I think we're reaching the end!" he shouted, raising his voice to be heard over the din. One by one, they escaped out the window—first Edwin, then James lifted Iana out, and then the Prince himself, hoisting himself up to what the four realized was the north tower. The enemy burst in just as James' legs disappeared and several rushed to that exit, looking to follow. The rest quickly turned and left, moving to the stairwell down the hall that would take them there on solid ground. The four followed these men, allowing their ghostly bodies to be swept away by the tide. Just above them, Iana was still too close to pull them their instantly. By the time they reached the tower roof, a few other of Camelot's knights had joined the fray, but they were still badly outnumbered by the blue clad opponents. Arthur flashed back to the hallway, and wished for another fireball. But the druids had thought most of the enemy was gone, and Arthur knew, even his older self would immediately check the roof for a fight. His son was on his own.

James was still by the edge, Edwin beside him fighting fiercely. Arthur tried to memorize the boys face, wanting to thank him in the future for protecting his son. Iana had managed to find a one handed weapon—rocks. The girl was picking up pieces of broken stone and hurling them at the attackers, aiming for faces and, it appeared, genitals. A man went down as a rather large hunk hit between his legs and even Uther cringed in sympathy. They seemed to be holding their own. A flying beast, what looked to be a small dragon, dove, breathing flames at the blue clad men. Another swoop had the thing grabbing a man's arm, dragging him through the air, tearing the limb off and dropping him over the side.

And then one of Cenred's men broke past Edwin.

AN: I know… another one. But it was brought to my attention that not everyone thinks genies can be scary. To this I say… watch the SUPERNATURAL episode 'What Is and What Should Never Be' and THEN tell me a genie can never be scary! That shit is insane. And freaky.


	13. Chapter 11

I disclaim.

Chapter 11

He rammed into Iana with alarming speed, she was so close to the edge and he was so quick that he bounced a little, his momentum throwing him from the roof. The four knew that the turrets jutted out a little, and the man fell head first and the sickening crunch that followed him told them he hadn't missed them. Iana's arms pin wheeled as she tried to catch her balance.

She had at some point after breaking off with James in the woods, changed into the blue dress he'd requested. Merlin realized she'd been wearing during the fight with the sorcerer and wondered if she'd changed in anticipation of James or because she'd been so uncomfortable in the leggings. The dress flared out, caught in the wind as she tried to stay upright. Despite the feminine clothing, she looked horrible, about as beat and bloody as her ghost. The warlock realized with a sickening jolt—that his daughter's ghost had also been wearing a blue dress. That blue dress.

He took a deep breath. She recovered, sighing and smiling at James, who had jerked his head toward her, worried. Someone took advantage of his distraction and sent an arrow flying at his chest. Iana grabbed his arm, jerking him out of the way—and stepped back.

Into air.

There was panic. And then she was gone, sliding down the rough stone of the roof. The four rushed to the side, peering over and letting out a collective breath as they saw her, grasping desperately onto the turrets.

Iana scrambled for a better grip, her face dragging across the rough stone. Gashes opened on her cheek as the broken pieces of Camelot dug three jagged trenches into her skin. "Ahh!" She latched onto a block even as she felt the wall begin to crumble beneath her. Her face was bleeding heavily and now both her hands were being sliced open slowly as she latched on for safety, her own weight forcing the stone deeper into her palms. The previous injury was oozing blood, the red liquid falling in rivers down her arm. James and Edwin were fighting above her for their lives even as Terais Cendred's forces were retreating.

The four travelers rushed to the side where they had a better view of the girl. Iana tried to tug herself up uselessly. All she accomplished was slipping her chin down in effort, which afforded her a look of the ruined courtyard below her, a mass of fallen stone and invaders bodies. The front of her was covered in blood and grime and what looked like soot from the fire she had started. "Iana hold on!" The prince called her name as she flailed on the stone. She was slipping.

Her right palm slid, slick with blood and she did cry out, a weak yelp and sob of pain. "I've got you!" Suddenly James was there, his own face slit open from nose to cheekbone, but there and holding her up with a solid grip. "Magic yourself up!" He was holding onto her left arm, sweaty hands holding skin and dress.

"I can't!" She had tried. "I used it up! I used it up!" The cry was desperate, and Merlin could feel tears dripping down his face as his child desperately searched for a spark of magic inside of herself. "Behind you!" A large swordsman loomed above them but James just held her with one hand, using the other to slash at his attacker with one arm. She began to mutter. The whispers that they normally would never have been able to hear seemed amplified as the memories climaxed. "_Memoria_, _memoria vinci eras, memoria." _They heard an ominous heard a rip and looked at Iana left shoulder. When she was fighting Erat the sleeve had torn at the seam and now the fabric was tearing more as James strained to fight and hold her at the same time. "James!" Finally just kicking his opponent from the falling building Camelot's prince looked down into his lover's panicked eyes. "James." His face paled as he realized what was happening just as another ream of stitches broke and she dropped a little farther, having lost her grip on the stone completely. The only thing holding her up was his tenuous grip on her sleeve.

He grabbed for her with his sword hand, throwing the weapon away in his desperation, but she had slipped too far and he couldn't reach her. "Iana!" Hearing the sounds of fighting he glanced over his shoulder to see Edwin winning his own battle and more of Camelot's knights pouring onto the roof, which swayed as bodies came up. Arthur's heart was pounding as his son repeated Iana's earlier call for assistance. "Help me!" the prince cried hoarsely, throat thick with tears as he tried to grab for her once more. His own body started to slide toward the edge.

"James." Tears were streaming down her face as the sleeve strained. Her face was a mess of blood and soot. "Let me go. You're falling—just let me go."

"No." He tried to pull at her once more and even as his torso inched father over the ledge, the last of her sleeve rip from the blouse. "No!"

It was almost as if she was suspended for a moment and then she began to fall, a scream of terrified horror leaving her as she raced toward the rocky graveyard. "James!"

"Iana!"He threw the fabric to the uneven ground and raced away for the door, his chainmail making a loud racket as he slammed against the door frame in his haste.

The four stood in horror as they peered off the roof. Even Uther had tears in his eyes as he looked down at the broken, bloody figure stories below. Gaius shuddered. "She fell. It makes sense—all her broken…" he trailed off unwilling to go into detail how the ghost had matched the injuries.

Arthur's son had pulled the sleeve to safety, but had abandoned it in his grief. Now the young, invisible version of his father approached the fabric as it rolled in the tower wind. "Her sleeve. Her sleeve was missing the whole time."

Below, James cradled a dead body and above Merlin cradled the abandoned sleeve. Gauis and Arthur both reached for the dark haired young man, but were startled by a shimmering. Instead of the dark, horrible could, this time the ghost almost blew into being, the shining dust forming her body. Just as bloody and broken, but this time each of the travelers catalogued her injuries against the journey, all looking away from the crushed skull, plainly a result of the recent fall. "Help me." She simply said the words, not yelling or whispering—just asking. The four looked back down, realizing that Iana was truly dead—they hadn't been pulled to her because she was no longer there, but in front of them.

Despite this, they could just see the prince pulling off his boot. He retrieved the stone they had seen him hide and now they could hear him, pleading, screaming for her to bite down, even as he shoved the object into her lifeless jaw. A flurry of activity and suddenly they could see the glint of crown and the swirl of a dark cape. Older Arthur and Merlin had arrived. The king pulled his son off of Iana's body, and Merlin knelt beside her. "Help me." The sky lit up with unnatural lightening, echoing the horrified cry below and then the world faded to black.

Flash.

A slightly older Merlin sits with a dark haired child at Gaius' table. They're both giggling, laughing over books and stew.

Flash.

A boy, his dark blonde hair shinning in the light for the great hall, sulks behind Gwen's skirts, glaring at a young girl. Iana. She sticks her little tongue out when Merlin and Arthur looked away. The queen pushes James forward, smiling.

Flash.

A beautiful ball of blue and white light hangs in the sky, illuminating the night. Below Merlin, Arthur, and Gwaine sit in a circle, laughing. Two childish faces spy from the trees.

Flash.

A dark swollen ball covered in cloth, a baby, peers up from a basinet. Iana's large blue eyes stare down at Igraine.

Flash.

Two children, older now, race down an empty hallway and rest in an alcove. Noise. They glance out, seeing Gwen and Lancelot in a forbidden embrace.

Flash.

It's raining. Two teenagers relax by a lake, unbothered by the storm. James' takes his shirt off and laughs, then kisses Iana. She kisses him back, and then pushes him in the lake.

Flash.

They're kissing again, in a bedroom this time. The door swings open and Arthur is there, a disappointed look on his face. They jump back, flushing.

Flash.

Igraine is crying softly. There's a glimpse of bone and blood seeping from her ankle, Merlin kneels, healing it quickly as Iana strokes her forehead, murmuring comfort.

Flash.

James on his knee, then not on his knee. Yelling, fighting. "I won't marry you." The relief on his face is clear and painful. He's gone.

Flash.

Arthur, gold crown shining, stands beside her, sorry and worry in his eyes. Iana looks sick and upset and then stronger, a bow in her hand. Arthur is beside her again, this time guiding her aim.

Flash.

Merlin, grey in his hair, showing her an island, lecturing about purges and balance. They call lighting and rain and thunder, practicing and laughing with the Old Religion.

Flash.

Horses thunder along the forest path. They're racing and Iana is winning, Igraine far behind her. She feels free, doesn't notice the dark woman in swirling red watching. Morgana smiles.

Flash.

A beautiful woman in a velvet dress, rises from the lake. She's smiling and crying, embracing Merlin. He's crying too. Iana stares at her mother, confusion and joy on her face.

Flash.

They're in the caves below Camelot. Arthur and Merlin uncover a table, eyes bright with excitement. James grabs Iana's hand as they listen. She doesn't pull away.

Flash.

"I love you." Faces. Merlin, Arthur, Freya, Igraine, Gwen. James.

Flash.

A broken Iana, in a blue dress, extending her hand to them, pleading, "Help me."

And then, after what seemed a lifetime… they woke up.

AN: And next… the thrilling conclusion.


	14. Chapter 12

I disclaim.

Chapter 12

Ironically, Merlin woke up last. He thought this was ironic because he was younger and should naturally have recovered a little more quickly and because he was definitely not going to able to escape both Arthur and Uther's swords. He sighed, looking at the empty spaces beside him and tried to stand. Mistake.

A moment later he was retching, same as when he entered the dream but this time, unlike before, two comforting hands were on his back and neck. "Easy my boy. Not too fast now." Gaius helped him up, allowing him to slouch on the table. This was the second time he had been allowed to sit at the noble mess and he allowed himself to admire the sanded wood before pushing off. He glanced around, worried and anxious that the royals themselves were nowhere to be seen. His mentor saw the look and answered softly. "Uther stormed out moments after he woke. Arthur followed him—most likely to make sure he wasn't ordering a pyre."

"Or helping to build it himself." Merlin responded glumly, remembering the betrayed look on his master's face. They may have built up a comradery in the memories, but that was only because Arthur had been unable to do anything else. The dreams made him think of Iana and he stumbled away, back to the wall, throwing up bile again. He saw her smashed head and torn face, smiling—his daughter. "I have to save her Gaius."

The old man nodded, "of course. She…" he thought for a moment, "she will be a great young woman, Merlin. You should be proud."

But the young man ignored him, instead stumbling to the exit. "I have to live long enough." He walked out, almost expecting Sir Leon, who was still outside, to arrest him. But apparently neither Pendragon had said anything to the even tempered knight, because the man simply nodded and spared a slight smile at the two servants before heading off, his job done now that the last two exited the room. The two magic practitioners's skulked to the physician's chamber's, sure every turn would be their last. When they finally arrived, Merlin rushed to his room and began throwing items into his knapsack, carefully stowing magical items in the hidden compartments. "I have to leave Gaius—before Uther shakes off the memories and orders me killed."

"I understand." The older man gathered the little food they kept on hand on wrapped it up as quickly as he could. "Just let me get together some essentials." Merlin actually stopped moving, froze for a moment, and then turned to his father figure. Images of Gaius hurt, missing, killed, sick flashed through his mind and he thought he'd be sick again.

"You can't come with me Gaius."

The man didn't stop, continuing to bundle some rare herbs. "I meant what I said Merlin. Uther is out of control—and if you're going to run, he's going to chase you. And I won't stand by and allow you to be hurt without me."

Merlin threw his arms up, eyes wide. "So you're going to be hurt with me! Gaius," He moved to the grey man and put a hand on his should, stilling the busy hands. "Don't do this. Uther will leave you alone if you stay—say you tried to stop me. I couldn't take it if you…"

"So I'm supposed to sit by as you leave your home, your friends! Are possibly killed!" The physician looked furious. "I won't allow it. Arthur won't either, Merlin." He warned, "he'll go looking for you-"

"Arthur will be happier if I'm gone Gaius. The prat… even if he does forgive me lying…" he trailed off, looking pained. Could Arthur ever forgive him? "…he can't condone an accused sorcerer. His father-"

"Isn't me." The door swung open slowly and the prince himself stood there, expression a mixture of hurt and anger. "How dare you!"

Merlin backed up, looking longingly at the pack he'd abandoned in his small room. "Arthur-"

"Shut up! _Shut up_ _Mer-lin_!" He prince slammed the door behind him and pointed to the table, where two chairs waited. "Sit!" Too afraid to do anything else, Merlin sat, glancing anxiously at Gaius. "Don't look at him Merlin! Look at me!" Now Merlin was getting a little pissed off, being treated like a criminal the prat was interrogating.

Even if he was a criminal…

"Gaius, if you would excuse us." Not breaking eye contact with Merlin, Arthur ordered the old amn from the room, disguising it as a request. But Gaius didn't seem to notice, bowing and backing from the quarters, face trying to tell Merlin something, although the younger man couldn't quite understand. "You lied to me."

"Well, technically-"

Arthur slammed his hands on the table. He still hadn't taken the other chair. "Did I say you could speak?" He paced a little and Merlin sulked in silence, now determined not to speak even if Arthur asked nicely. "I should have known really," He seemed to almost be talking to himself, "an idiot like you, surviving all those battles, all those quests. You can barely polish armor!" He looked him in the eye. "I did know, if I'm being honest—I've known—but it doesn't matter! You should have told me! Confessed!"

Now Merlin had to say something. "I tried-"

Arthur slashed a hand through the air, cutting off the words. He slumped into the chair. "I know." He watched Merlin through his blonde fringe. "You tried. Which by the way, was very stupid! What if I'd turned you in!"

"Are you scolding me for trying to tell you what you're yelling at me for not having told you; despite the fact you already knew what that thing I never told you was?" They glanced at each other, and then broke into unmanly giggles, which they tried to cover with extremely manly coughs. Merlin looked at the ceiling. "I'm sorry."

"So am I." He responded, because prince's never actually say that they're sorry, just imply it. Arthur cleared his throat. "I'm almost positive that my father is going to try and kill you."

Merlin jumped to his feet. "I should go—I've been enough trouble, I-" He stopped, looking at the door. "Gaius, he-"

"Can't come. He'll slow us down."

"Exactly he'll slow me down and get hurt- Wait… us?" Merlin tried to cover the hope in his eyes but couldn't quite manage it.

Arthur stood, rolling his eyes. "Of course you moron. You think I'd let you go wandering the woods alone? You're a danger to yourself and others just wandering the _castle_. Besides," he looked slyly at his _friend_, "you've got to survive. Your kid has to marry my handsome son—didn't you pay attention? I'm not going to let the boy marry some substandard female because you can't manage to walk in a straight line."

Despite the levity of the words, a sort of serious feeling passed through the room. Merlin remembered the end of the adventure, when harsh truths had been revealed. Hard truths about Arthur… and Gwen. "Do you want to... talk about it?"

The prince snapped up to his feet as if someone had pulled invisible strings. "No!" He looked around. "No… I don't really think…"

Feeling extremely uncomfortable Merlin pressed on, "…because if you did…"

"…that's alright, I just think…"

"…good." They finished at the same time, smiling again. And Merlin turned to get his pack. Arthur moved to the door. "I'm just going to…pack."

Merlin smirked, "Without me? Do you think you can actually manage to find your own things?"

"I'm sure I'll manage Mer-lin." Arthur glared half-heartedly, adding, "meet me in my room in ten minutes." Then he was gone, as quietly as he came.

The servant continued packing, heart lighter. Arthur was coming with him, which meant Gaius could stay. Could stay safe, because even the mothering physician couldn't argue that Arthur wouldn't look after him. Five minutes later, he slipped out of the room, leaving a good-bye note for his surrogate father, giving himself plenty of time to sneak around the guards to Arthur's room.

Except only a few turns into his journey disaster struck; a hand snaked from around a column, jerking him off course and putting him nose to nose with Uther. The king looked suitably disgruntled and wary, his hands trapping Merlin's own and covering his mouth. The boy supposed that the king thought that he was like every other sorcerer, and couldn't cast without hands or voice. It wasn't true of course, but Merlin wasn't about to say anything to set the cold man straight.

Because Uther looked unhinged. Mandrake under the bed, crazy. And this time, the crazy was focused on Merlin.

"Is it true?" Merlin couldn't speak and didn't know what the hell the man was talking about, so squeaked from under the hand, figuring that could go either way. "Morgana?" the blue eyes focused, looking less crazy now that Merlin was less panicked. "I'm going to let you speak sorcerer—and you will speak the truth. Or I will kill you."

Slowly the fingers peeled away from Merlin's mouth.

Quietly, Merlin answered the question. He answered the rest of them too, because after he told Uther Morgana was evil, the man had quite a few more. They seemed to flow out of the king. Questions about magic and Merlin and Arthur and Morgause and dragons. And then finally, THE question. "Do you mean my son harm?"

Merlin didn't answer right away. He wanted Uther to know he was serious—was more serious than ever before. "I would never harm Arthur. Never. We are two sides of the same coin your highness. He will live to be a great king, I will make sure of it." His hands were released and the older Pendragon stepped back, looking as sane and calm as he had been before Morgana's evil. "Sire?"

"I am not-" He started, but seemed to change his mind. "My son is packing." He looked pointedly at Merlin's own bag. "I assume you're planning a trip?"

"We…" Did the king deserve the truth? "We're running sire… I don't… I don't want to die."

The graying man ran a hand over his face; the most weakness Merlin had ever seen him shown while in his right mind. "And I do not want to lose my son." As well as my daughter. It was unsaid, but stood there between them anyway. "You… are a good servant Merlin." It looked like Uther swallowed a lemon as he said the words, but still he said them. "I'm asking you, as a master, who is perhaps not so good, to not take my son away from me."

Merlin screwed up his courage. "If he comes with me sire, it is not because I'm taking him… it's because you're forcing him."

Uther looked at him then, with something Merlin would swear was respect. "Perhaps you're right." He looked away. "That girl, your daughter, she saved him. Now I need _you_ to save something. Yourself."

"Sire?"

"Your…magic…skills. You can change a memory?" Merlin saw where this was going and nodded, warily. "Then you erase ours—the last few days. Arthur will forget all this and will stay."

The young warlock asked softly. "And you?"

"I'll forget all this… and you'll live."

"Performing a spell like this, long lasting—it'll need to be a potion."

Uther waved a hand. "Yes, fine. I'll distract my son for a few moments. You go make the thing. Then tonight, after you 'escape' feed the thing to him. Slip some to Gaius and leave some in my chambers."

Merlin suddenly felt ill at ease. "How do I know you'll drink it?"

The man sighed, glaring. "Don't take your own until you return." He rolled his eyes. "The two of you will have to get back somehow. I _won't_ have my son wandering the woods half confused at night. You're strong enough to call lightning—if I haven't forgotten by the time you get back, you escape again." He looked at Merlin like he was a moron again, pervious respect gone. "Without my son." The last part was said with steel in his voice.

A single doubt filled Merlin's mind. "But…"

"But?" Uther was impatient now.

"If I forget, Iana will still die." It was like a pain he couldn't heal.

And it was as if a ghost was in Uther's place. Because it couldn't have been the king himself whose face softened and he reached out a arm, lightly grasping Merlin shoulder and softly saying, "don't try and change fate boy. You simply end up losing more that you love." It couldn't have been Uther, because that…well, it just wasn't.

It was almost too easy.

Making the potion was the hardest part of the whole thing, measuring out poppy seeds for the time, down to the second, the most laborious element. A portion went into Gaius' rarely used supply of mead, which he was sure to break into after reading the note. A vial was delivered to Uther's room with his sleeping draught, which Merlin brought nightly—the guards let him right through. Two vials were tucked carefully away into his pocket. That night as he and Arthur slept under the stars and considered their plans, he seriously considered just leaving with the prince. Smashing the vials and disappearing. Uther would deserve it. But then he thought of Gaius and Gwen and the funny knight, Gwaine, and even Lancelot. He thought of Iana. And in the morning he slipped a dose into Arthur's water.

He convinced the prince he'd hurt his head during a hunt. But not to worry, they were returning anyway, that very morning—Gaius would be happy to check the lump.

And Gaius was happy to do so, carefully pretending to see an injury after Merlin explained he'd had to do magic. There were dangerous things in the forest, after all. He burnt the tearstained note he found next to an empty tankard. He took the blame for that same empty tankard and claimed ignorance about Gaius' hangover.

The hardest part was dinner, where Uther was as surly as ever. The king complained about having forgotten about meetings, smiled at Morgana, and chastised Arthur. He never once even glanced at Merlin. He did however; tell Arthur that he should fire him.

It was as if nothing had ever happened.

Merlin sat on his bed that night and stared at the last dose. He thought of the laughing child he'd gotten a glimpse of, the beautiful, brave woman she'd become, and the horrifying corpse she'd haunted him as. Then he thought of Uther's eyes, sad with the knowledge of trying to beat fate, and he drained the vial. He laid down, determined to dream of his daughter.

And he did. He dreamed a beautiful woman in a blue dress laughing as they stood in a storm. And when he woke up, he remembered the dream. And wondered who she was.


	15. Epilogue

AN: Last chapter! Yea! I've loved writing this story and I hoped you guys enjoyed it as well! Thanks for all the great support and reviews, especially all you guys who've been waiting for this since the beginning! Love!

I disclaim.

Epilogue

Uther watched from a window as his son and the boy laughed. The two were blatantly enjoying the fine summer day. The king shifted in his chair, his aching body bothering him. Since Morgana's short reign and his imprisonment, his formerly strong body had joined his weakened mind in decay.

Soon, he knew, his son would have to be king. Would have to deal with meetings and decisions and lords who would rather fight then have peace. So for now, despite the fact he had spoken to Arthur several times about appropriate behavior (and about _that boy_) he would let it go. His boy could be a boy for just a little while longer.

Although, the king knew, _Merlin_ would be an issue that would continue long into the future.

He glanced down at the parchment under his hand. He had been absently sketching. He enjoyed drawing—the feeling of creation, total power over those creations, and the freeness of it all. It was not something he shared with many. Gaius knew, if only because Uther, in his young and foolish days, had shared his dreams with the man, before he realized kings should only dream of being king, not of markings on parchment. Igraine had known, had been won over to his hard ways by his fanciful and occasionally romantic pen and its flights of imagination. His son, however, would never have even considered that he could draw. Or would want to.

Arthur thought him some sort of monster. Which was alright, he supposed.

He didn't need his son to like him, just to respect him, to learn from him. Arthur would never imagine love notes with scribbled hearts or portraits or even a county landscape to ever come from his father's hand. But lately, with his mind and heart and body so worn, Uther needed to draw.

He'd created a portrait today. A young woman stared out from the page, large eyes full with joy and passion. It had started differently.

On the back he'd begun sketching eyes full of pain, broken with defeat and need. But a moment after finishing them he turned the parchment over and begun again.

So now the eyes were happy, framed by a pretty face and dark, long hair, pulled back and blowing in an unseen wind. Tall and lean, her dress was dark and whole, and beside her there was the shadow of man. Uther hadn't bothered to draw him clearly, his own tiredness telling him he wasn't up to the task. But the young man was present all the same, clasping the woman's hand. It was a happy scene, despite the lightning he'd absently, almost carelessly, added to the background.

He looked at the two and smiled, and then he made a decision.

He stood, leaving his room, waving off the guard he knew his son had secretly assigned. The man still followed him, but Uther easily lost him—it was his castle after all. His journey ended in front of Morgana's room.

Once they'd taken back the castle and driven out his traitorous child, Arthur had the room searched. Stepping inside, Uther carefully closed the door behind him, taking in the destruction and anger. Obviously, Arthur and his friends had conducted it, because there was meaningless destruction everywhere. He could imagine them all—his son's 'round table'—taking out their pain on the room. Except the boy, Merlin. He couldn't imagine the small servant throwing his daughter's things, ripping and destroying her life.

Uther stepped to one of the only standing tables. There, precious and saved, was a carved bone box. A gift he'd presented to Morgana when she was sixteen, young and angry but loving. He could imagine Merlin saving it, knowing his son might one day regret the anger and want a memory.

The boy was soft like that.

He opened the lid carefully, brushing fingers over the small knickknacks and the small silver bowl he'd never seen in the past. Then he reached into his pocket and removed a letter. He'd written it almost a year ago, still flush with anger and sadness, regret and satisfaction. He placed it, reverently, on top of the bowl, making sure that the name he'd penned on the outside was clear and visible.

Then he shut the box.

He left the room and ordered the door locked, gave the key to his son.

Arthur looked at him like he was nothing; Uther couldn't disagree. But the boy looked with something akin to pity, which was even worse. The servant looked like he almost remembered something but couldn't quite place the idea.

Uther did remember.

And he decided that night, that he'd remembered quite long enough, thank you. And he'd like to remember a little less about that stupid boy and stop pretending. He was going insane as it was and didn't need to add to the layers of lies he told himself. So he walked to his own little box, which had somehow also avoided his children's attentions and pulled out a small vial. He toasted the invisible ghost who'd been haunting him and tossed her sketched likeness into the fire.

And then he swallowed.

El Fin

AN: And that's it! Please review… and remember "this is for posterity" and lots of pieces of pie!


	16. Prequel!

AN: Hi all, just wanted let you guys know that there's now a sequel! Or rather a prequel. (everyone cheers!)…hopefully.

It's set right as Iana is born and Arthur becomes king. Just a little back story on the kingdom, etc. I'll hopefully be going into how Arthur and Uther found out about Merlin's magic and how that affected the character's lives. So…flashbacks!

Here's a little sneak peek. The rest of the prologue will be posted at the same time so please, pretty please, go find it and let me know what you think.

From the Prologue of Regnum

"_Long live the king!"_

_It was many hours and meetings later that Arthur, king of Camelot, stood beside a grave outside the city walls. He had no guard, save for Lancelot and Percival. The three bent their heads in acknowledgement as Arthur muttered a few words over the plot. They each threw a handful of dirt on the grave, which was at least three years old, and showing the signs of age. "It's time Gaius. It's time for him to come home." He turned away and motioned for Percival to walk beside him. The big knight fell into line, Lancelot behind them. "You know where he is?"_

"_Yes sire." Percival nodded in the darkness. "It's a three day journey to…well, to where I'm going."_

"_Leave now then; as soon as you can saddle the horse." The man peeled away and Lancelot fell into step beside his king. "I'll need you to deal with the nobles until this is sorted out. Keep them busy, keep them quiet, but most of all keep them away from me. I'll talk to Gwen, she'll do what she can. James is always a good distraction; he should at least keep the visiting ladies busy."_

_The dark haired knight nodded. "Where will you be?"_

_Arthur smiled grimly. "I'll be getting ready. It's time for a few things to change."_

Well?...


End file.
